
f; 



A** 



I 



REMINISCENCES OF PILGRIMAGE 

TO THE 

HOLY PLACES OF PALESTINE. 



REMINISCENCES OF PILGRIMAGE 

TO THE 

HOLY PLACES OF PALESTINE. 



BEING THE SUBSTANCE OF THREE LECTURES 

DELIVERED ON THE SUBJECT 

AT THE SIDMOUTH AND OTTERY ST. MARY 
LITERARY INSTITUTIONS, 

BY 

HENBY G. J. CLEMENTS, M.A. 

tj 



LONDON AND OXFORD: J. H. PARKER AND SON. 
DUBLIN: WILLIAM CURRY AND COMPANY. 
SIDMOUTH : JOHN HARVEY. 



MDCCCLVII. 
1^ 



23J&72 



X 
K 



TO 

MR. AND MES. JOHNSON, OF WOODLANDS, SIDMOUTH, 

IN MEMORY OF 
THE KIND ASSISTANCE WHICH THEY HAVE AFFORDED 

BY THE AID OF THEIR ARTISTIC TALENTS 
TOWARDS RENDERING THESE LECTURES POPULAR AND 
ATTRACTIVE, 
THE FOLLOWING PAGES 
ARE 

WITH MUCH ESTEEM AND GRATITUDE 
DEDICATED, 



PREFACE. 



In submitting the following pages to the notice of the 
Public, their author feels that a few words of apology and 
explanation are necessary; as well for their design and 
object, as to account for their peculiarities of style and 
arrangement. They were originally written, as most of 
his readers are aware, with no view whatever to publication, 
but simply as Lectures to be delivered before the Literary 
Institution at Sidmouth. In this form they have been, 
under the following titles, and at the following times and 
places respectively delivered. — 

L Modern Jerusalem and its Associations. A Lecture 
delivered at the Sidmouth Literary Institution, on 
Thursday evening, Nov. 15, 1855. At the Ottery 
St, Mary Institution, on Thursday evening, Jan. 3, 
1856. 

II. JuDiEA, its Modern Aspect, and Ancient Associations, 
A Lecture delivered at the Sidmouth Literary Institu- 
tion, on Thursday evening, March 27, 1856. At the 
Ottery St. Mary Institution, Thursday evening, Dec. 
21, 1856. 



vm. 



PREFACE. 



III. Samakia and Gaeilee. Fast and Present. A Lec- 
ture delivered at the Sidmouth Literary Institution, 
on Tuesday evening, March 24, 1857. At the Ottery 
St. Mary Institution, Friday evening, April 17, 1857. 
Again at Sidmouth, hy special request, April 21, 1857. 

The great and unexpected popularity which, when first 
thus delivered, these Lectures achieved, has induced their 
author to helieve that they would prove not uninteresting, 
(as well to the Public in general as to those who heard 
them,) if reproduced in the more permanent form in which 
he has now ventured to embody them. 

He is, of course, aware that it is no new ground that he 
is traversing;— no new theme he is enlarging on, in des- 
cribing the scenery and associations of the Holy Land. 
Much of his information has been, ( as whose is not?) 
derived from boohs on the subject, and the recorded expe- 
rience of other travellers, who have passed over that oft- 
trodden ground before him. Yet, whilst acknowledging 
his obligations to them* he would claim for himself the 
merit, (if merit it be,) of having at least endeavoured to 
tell the truth about a country of which very few writers, 
(and specially few "religious" writers,) do tell the truth; 
and faithfully to depict the exact impressions which the 
scenery and associations of that country produced upon 
his own mind. 

For absence of arrangement, and faults of style, he must 
plead, in apology, the original design of this work. At 

* I may here mention as the principal sources of my information 
the works of Dr. Robinson, Miss Martineau, Mr. Kingslake, and 
Mr. Stanley, on the subject. 



PREFACE. 



ix. 



the time when the first of these Lectures was composed, 
he had no idea of either committing it 1o print, or of con- 
tinuing the subject further. It was, therefore, neither 
arranged with that care, or worded with that precision, 
which, with the latter objects in view, he should have felt 
it necessary to bestow upon it. And although he has, of 
course, done much since, towards revising all of them 
generally for publication, yet, as their chief interest must 
ever lie in the reminiscence of their original lecture-form, 
he has not thought it advisable to make alterations so 
freely as he otherwise might have done; nor beyond a few 
trifling alterations, the correction of verbal errors, and the 
arrangement of them into chapters, has he done much 
towards remodeling or reforming them. Had he been con- 
scious at the time of writing either the first or second of 
these Lectures that they were destined to expand into a 
series, and that that series was to become a book,Jie would 
certainly have arranged them far otherwise ;— commencing 
the subject from a different point, and proceeding by a 
different course.— As it is, however, he feels it wiser to let 
well alone, and to leave them in that form and order in 
which they have already attracted popularity and interest. 

Thus much in apology for many shortcomings and defici- 
encies. Little more remains for him to say on the subject. 
It may perhaps, however, be desirable before he concludes, 
to make some general mention of the tour which originally 
suggested the subject to his mind. In the month 
of August, 1852, the author, (having then just taken 
his degree) started from England with a friend, across 
Europe, and down the Danube to Constantinople, and 



TKEFACE. 



from thence sailed to Beyrout. From Beyrout they 
proceeded inland to visit the Cedars of Lebanon, the ruins 
of Baaibec, and the city of Damascus; of which prelimi- 
nary Tour, he regrets having been unable at present to 
fulfil an intention he had formed of subjoining an account 
in a supplementary chapter. Less than six weeks amply 
sufficed for them to see the remainder of Palestine: and a 
month's journey across the desert enabled them to visit 
Petra and spend four days there; and brought them to 
Egypt by the end of the year. 

Of all that beautiful Tour, the most delightful and inter- 
esting perhaps in the world, the memory still hangs over 
him, assuming as it fades off farther and farther into the 
distance, the hues and proportions of enchantment. He 
were ungrateful were he to neglect to acknowledge the 
vast debt of gratitude he owes to that Eastern vision 
of byegone days, casting, as it does, its glory over the 
work of life, and reminding him as it waxes fainter and 
fainter, how in another sense the poet's words are true, 
that 

"The youth, who daily further from the East 
Must travel, still is Nature's priest; 
And by that vision splendid 
Is on his way attended : 
At length, the man perceives it die away, 
And fade into the light of common day !" 

With these few remarks by way of explanation and 
apology he now ventures to submit his volume to the 
public; trusting that the consideration of the original form 
and intention of its contents, (which, as he before said, 
he has left unremodeled, and shaped as they are, because 



PREFACE. 



xi. 



their principal interest must ever be as a reminiscence of 
their first appearance,) may suffice to excuse and gain allow- 
ance for that absence of arrangement and rawness of style 
which he fears may be only too apparent throughout it. 

The illustrations which accompany this volume are from 
his own sketches taken on the spots which they represent: 
and he cannot better conclude than in acknowledging with 
much gratitude the kindness of those friends who have 
assisted him in the production of them in their present 
form. 



CONTENTS, 



LECTURE I. 
Modern Jerusalem and its Associations. 



Page. 
CHAPTER I. 

Preliminary Jerusalem 3 

CHAPTER n. 

Exterior Jerusalem 15 

CHAPTER III. 
Interior Jerusalem «, 26 

LECTURE II, 
Judjea, its Modern Aspect and Ancient Associations. 

CHAPTER I. 

Eastern Jud;ea - 45 

CHAPTER H. 

Eastern Jud^ia ( continued ) 56 

CHAPTER III. 

Central and Western J ud^a 72 

LECTURE III. 
Samaria and Galilee. Past and Present. 

CHAPTER I. 

Preliminary Galilee and Samaria 89 

CHAPTER n. 

Inland Galilee * 100 

CHAPTER III. 
Maritime Galilee 114 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 



To face page. 

I. Map of Palestine, (Frontispiece.) 

II. Jerusalem prom the Mount op Olives 17 

III. Jericho and the Dead Sea 59 

IV. Bethlehem, looking Eastwards 

V. Nazareth from the Mount of Precipitation .... 108 

VI. Tiberias and the Sea of Galilee 115 



LECTURE I. 



MODERN JERUSALEM, 

AND ITS 

ASSOCIATIONS. 



JERUSALEM. 



Lecture I. Chapter I. Preliminary. 



"Then waft me from the harbour mouth 
Wild winds ! I seek a milder sky, 
And I will see before I die 
The Palms and Temples of the South !" 

Tennyson* 



Introductory remarks on the general interest of the subject — 
Neglect it has met ivith — Causes and results of this — Pilgrim- 
ages ancient and modern — Various routes — Landing at Jaffa — 
First impressions of Palestine — Its towns — Figures — and 
Landscape — Scriptural associations — "En route" for Jeru- 
salem — "Getting in sight" 



The subject on which I propose to address you this 
evening is one of such peculiar and special interest, that 
I feel it will be necessary to say but little in order to 
commend it to your attention at the outset. Its mere 
name and title attracts at once, (as I rejoice to see,) an 
universal sympathy. For, if there is any spot in the 
world replete with interesting associations of every 
kind,— religious or historical, — it is surely the city of 
Jerusalem. Be our opinions what they may, — he our 
dispositions and feelings ever so various, — that name, 
familiar to us all from childhood, must needs recall 
to every mind a multitude of memories and impres- 
sions ,-^of associations and recollections,, — such as 

b2 



4 PRELIMINARY. [LECT. I. 

possess in themselves something of a more than ordinary 
charm: and acts like a spell potent to reproduce before 
us the enchanted shadows of the past and of the s future, 
as well of the great world of history as of each individual 
life ' For Jerusalem has indeed, like other great cities, 
Athens or Rome, its place and its historical interest m 
the annals of this world; and that no mean one. Hut, 
unlike other cities, Jerusalem alone possesses that pecu- 
liar religious interest which is not of this world; and 
is invested with a mysterious glory, by its inseparable 
connection with those spiritual associations which are 
suggestive of a brighter and a better ! 

The day of Jerusalem's earthly greatness indeed is 
long gone by, and is only of the Past. The day of her 
spiritual greatness is yet, as we believe, to come, and is 
only of the Future.— It is not however the Jerusalem 
of the Past, or the Jerusalem of the Future, but the 
Jerusalem of the Present that it is my intention to speak 
of this evening. Not the Jerusalem of history and 
recollection; nor the Jerusalem of spiritual hope and 
unfulfilled revelation; but the neglected Jerusalem ot 
this our own day and our own times. Not the J erusalem 
flourishing, (as she once did and will perchance again,) 
the Queen of cities under the blessing of Heaven; but 
the Jerusalem lying, (as she is now,) with the denunci- 
ations of all her prophets fulfilled against her,- captive, 
and deserted, and mourning, and blighted beneath the 

curse of God ! , . , * 

And is it not a strange thing when we come to 
consider, how much, with all this interest and glory 
attaching to her Past and her Future, the present 
existence of Jerusalem seems to have been in modern 
times practically ignored or forgotten ?— Perhaps it is 
partly a fulfilment of those ancient prophecies, or per- 
haps it is from some sin of omission that lies nearer 
home, but, from whatever cause, the fact remains a 
curious one, that, until very recently, the mere exist- 
ence of Modem Jerusalem attracted generally neither 



CHAP, i] 



JERUSALEM. 



5 



interest or notice, and was perhaps not very commonly 
realized or thought of. One would naturally have 
imagined that to Christians, — (and especially to Pro- 
testant Christians, so familiar with and interested in 
Bible history, — with scriptural expressions constantly 
on their lips, and such accurate knowledge of Scripture 
narrative as Protestants undoubtedly do acquire, — ) no 
foreign city in the world could have possessed nearly 
so great an interest. — Yet, strange to say, travellers 
from Protestant countries, (till within the last five-and- 
twenty years,) have very seldom bent their steps thither. 
The difficulties, — the dangers, — and the expenses of the 
journey are, comparatively speaking by no means great. 
A Tour in Spain is I believe a far more perilous and 
troublesome business than a Tour in the Holy Land. 
And yet, though the interest of the former cannot 
be compared with that of the latter, (which is incom- 
parable,) Palestine remained for centuries unvisited 
save by very few, whilst Spain and other parts of the 
Continent were overrun with Tourists. — From the age 
of the Crusades, when every Christian country of the 
Western world sent forth its thousands of devoted men 
to fight for the possession of the sacred soil, the spirit 
of Pilgrimage has been gradually declining all over 
Europe. In our own country, the Reformation gave a 
death-blow to this not altogether unprofitable enthu- 
siasm. The reaction that followed raised perhaps rather 
a prejudice than otherwise against a practice which 
superstition had enjoined. And thus a counter-super- 
stition grew up and prevailed, which rendered Palestine 
a "terra incognita," "a region that was but is not," to 
the mass of our own ancestors for many generations.^ 

And, I really believe, partly in consequence of this, 
that many well-meaning people, even of our own day, 
quite forget that the Land of the Bible is still in exist- 
ence. They seem to have a sort of vague idea that the 
events of Scripture narrative occurred in some remote 
region or other, — whether on earth ox not they can 



6 



PRELIMINARY. 



[LECT. I. 



scarcely determine,— and that the sites thereiii men- 
tioned have quite passed away * It enhances, they fancy, 
the sanctity with which the sacred story is invested, to 
regard it thus through an atmosphere of mystery, and 
increase its importance by removing it farther from 
themselves into a more distant region of awe and marvel. 
And of course when people have got any tendency in 
their heads towards this notion, (which is in its degree 
only too common,) it sounds startling and almost profane 
to them to hear the familiarity with which modern 
travellers speak and write about spots and scenes in the 
Holy Land, which they have thus exalted in their own 
imaginations to an unearthly sanctity. They are simply 
shocked when you tell them the common incidents of 
every-day life in close connection with a sacred name. — 
Yet travellers must eat, and drink, and sleep, and 
chatter, and gallop about, and amuse themselves in 
Galilee or Judaea,— at Nazareth or Jerusalem,— as surely 
as they must in Devonshire or London. — It is the law 
of their being, equally applicable all the world over. — 
And if they tell the truth about their travels, and draw 
true pictures of their wanderings, they will not scruple, 
in spite of being thought profane, to describe the land- 
scape, (be it the holiest in the world,) exactly as they saw 
it, with tents pitching, and dinners cooking, and Arabs 
screaming in the foreground of the view. — For these 
after all are facts ;— and the profanity, (if any there be,) 
lies entirely with those who choose to be shocked by 
them,— because they have fallen into the fatal error of 
disconnecting the Bible and its names and associations, 
from all that belongs to this present, common-place, 
familiar life of ours ; thus doing away with much of its 
reality, and force, and truth, (just as men do sometimes 

*I remember an answer I received once in a Sunday School 
strongly illustrative of this tendency.— I had asked the simple 
question « 'In what country did most of the events related in 
Scripture take place?" And the answer I received was "The 
Heavenly Canaan," an answer^ evidently implying that the land 
in question had no connection with earth. 



CHAP I.] JERUSALEM. 7 

with their religion too,) by regarding it not as it was, 
part of, but rather distinct from, the world they live in. 

And I feel sure that there is one great permanent 
advantage to be derived from familiarizing Scripture 
names and objects with the commonest details of every- 
day life, (even at the risk of its sounding or being 
thought profane,) viz, that it enables us to realize them 
as something belonging to ourselves ; and to know when 
we read our Bibles, that we are reading, not the events 
and characters of a book made for the purpose, but the 
genuine record of what real men and women, like our- 
selves, really said and did; giving us examples and 
warnings, not by invented instances or the deeds of 
beings of another sphere, — but by the actual familiar 
experiences of the men of our own ! 

With this object in view therefore, it will be my 
endeavour to reproduce before you and enable you to 
realize as clearly as I can, the present condition of this 
city of Jerusalem, the memory of whose Past, and the 
anticipation of whose Future, are matters of such 
engrossing interest to us all. 

And first, I would say a few words respecting the char- 
acter of the journey thither. I spoke just now of the spirit 
of Pilgrimage having been, for several centuries, extinct 
in our own country, and on the wane all over Europe ; 
I might however have added that, within the last few 
years, strong indications of its revival have been dis- 
cernible amongst ourselves. But, like everything else 
in this changeful world, its characteristic features have, 
in the lapse of ages, undergone considerable alteration. 
Pilgrimages now-a-days form a strange contrast, (at least 
in external aspect,) to the pilgrimages of olden time. 
Our ancestors, you know, were wont to set forth to visit 
the Holy Land, in the true spirit of self-denial, with a 
stern rejection of convenience or comfort, regarding 
the journey simply as a penance, the rather salutary to 
the soul in proportion as it was made the more ungrate- 
ful to the body: a solemn pain and peril it was to this 



8 



PRELIMINARY. 



[lect. I. 



life, undergone "with, a view to salvation in the next.— • 
Not so however with ourselves. We no longer believe 
that the soul is advantaged by the hurt of the body, or 
undertake the Tour with any such motives. Recog- 
nizing no obligations of discomfort or inconvenience, 
and regarding the journey not as a penance but as a 
pleasure, our modern pilgrim starts from home, not to 
traverse Continents afoot, and court privation and hard- 
ship after the painful fashion of his ancestors, but to 
improve his mind, and refresh his body, and enlarge his 
experience, and "temper his metal," and see and learn 
and know as much as possible, and thus in fact make 
more of himself. — He has therefore discarded the old- 
fashioned scallop-shell and staff of his forefathers for 
instruments better suited to his purpose, — well-filled 
portmanteaus, guide-books, and revolvers. By the 
wonder-working aid of steam and the appliances of 
modern civilization, he is enabled to achieve the journey 
in a tithe of the time, and with less than a tithe of the 
trouble and danger, that it cost in days of old. And with 
far more visible result. That garb of easy credulity 
too, in which our pilgrim-fathers traversed the -Holy 
Land, which made them accept tradition for truth, and 
credit any local tale, (however foolish or idle,) originated 
by the inventive brains and repeated by the lying lips 
of monks and hermits, the palmer of modern days has 
exchanged for the broad-cloth of sober reason and sound 
criticism ; — and in such altered guise he is enabled to 
sift truth from falsehood, with calm and cautious discrimi- 
nation. In short the "Pilgrim's Progress" is now a 
rapid, useful, pleasant, practical, modern piece of pro- 
gress, as unlike as possible to the slow and painful 
struggle that it used to be ! Yet, though thus altered 
in external aspect, the underlying truth remains the 
same; under vastly different forms we may recognise 
the same fact; — each is Pilgrimage, coloured by the 
spirit of its own age ! It boots not now to pause and 
enquire which fashion was best,— the ancient or the 



CHAP. I.] JERUSALEM. ^ 

modern; — we needs must follow that of our own time, 
and perform our pilgrim's progress with comfort and 
speed accordingly. 

There are of course several routes by which the 
journey from England to Jerusalem may be accom- 
plished. You may, like the majority of travellers, 
following the track of Moses and the Israelites across 
the desert from Egypt, approach it from the South: — 
or you may, as I myself did, travel across Europe and 
down the Danube to Constantinople, and thence sail 
to Beyrout, and so approach it through Palestine from 
the North: — or you may take ship straight to the port 
of Jaffa, and, there landing, approach it directly from 
the West. As the last-mentioned, though the least 
interesting, is the shortest route, and our present object 
is to get to Jerusalem as quickly as we can, I should 
propose our adopting it now, in preference to the other 
two. I will therefore, as I have already detained you 
so long on the road, omit all further mention of the 
journey out, as irrelevant to our subject; and, passing 
over all intermediate obstacles, request you to imagine 
the room in which you are seated to be a large steam- 
packet, on board of which we all embarked, just a fort- 
night ago, from Southampton; and that we have reached, 
(as we should by that time have done,) the Eastern 
shores of the Mediterranean Sea. There^ is land in 
sight ahead, for which we are making with all due 
speed. That rocky coast-line before you, is the coast 
of Palestine ; those grey hills that rise in the distance 
against the horizon are, the hills of Judaea; the deso- 
late land that greets your sight, is the Holy Land ; — 
"the land flowing with milk and honey; 55 — " the glory 
of all lands; 55 — the land of Jesus Christ and his 
apostles; — the land of David and Solomon;— the land 
of the chosen people of God ! — Looking for the first 
time in amongst those grey hills of Palestine, you feel 
as though you were looking in upon enchanted ground* 
at a region that is like no other region in this world 1 



10 



PRELIMINARY. 



[LECT. I. 



But, as you get fiearer and nearer, yon distinguish 
a cluster of buildings heaped on a hill close upon the 
else desolate shore ; and soon reach a small harbour, 
where, if Jerusalem be your destination, you must 
disembark. A little mass of grey or white houses all 
with flat roofs, oftentimes with little domes like beehives 
upon them, — intersected by rough and dirty lanes, — 
with a few stout domes and slender minarets rising 
above them, — and a castle or citadel overtopping the 
whole mass of habitations ; — this is J affa the sea-port of 
Judaea: — the same Joppa whence Jonah topk ship to 
escape the bidding of God; the same Joppa where 
afterwards Simon the tanner lived, from the flat roof of 
whose house, (which must have been very like the 
houses of the modern town I have just described,) over- 
looking the broad blue expanse of the great Western 
Sea, St. Peter was taught his first great lesson of 
Christian toleration, by the vision of things he fancied 
were "common or unclean ! 55 

As you step to shore, you begin to realize that you 
are indeed in another quarter of the globe. Everything 
is different from what you are accustomed to.— Take 
any object that first meets your eye; that group of 
idlers, for instance, round you on the shore, in their 
long loose brilliant-coloured garments, with their 
handsome sun-burnt faces dignified with flowing beard 
and majestic turban, look more like prophets and 
apostles than the ordinary inhabitants of a little modern 
fishing-town. You feel almost awed at first at the 
condescension of such venerable-looking beings when 
they begin to shoulder your portmanteaus, and have 
quite a delicacy in offering them a few pence for their 
trouble, as if they were mere ticket-porters. — Yet so it 
is ! In the East even ticket-porters are picturesque ! 
But if this oriental costume improves the appearance 
of the men, how sad and ghastly is that of the few 
women you see lingering there. — Dark muffled forms 
clumsily crippled with drapery and cruelly bandaged, 



CHAP. I.] JERUSALEM. 11 

and with faces shrouded from view and excluded from 
God's light and air, their appearance is ghastly and 
horrible, and suggestive rather of corpses moving with 
the cerements of the grave clinging to them!— There 
too are monks or priests loitering on the shore, and 
assisting the inhabitants to perform what appears to be 
the principal business of the place, viz, to look pictur- 
esque and do nothing— Last not least there will meet 
you on the shore a troop of half-starved wolfish-looking 
dogs prowling about for food, not very successfully to 
judge from their personal appearance. These are the 
only scavengers that Eastern Towns possess, and supply 
the place of drainage commissioners, and sewerage com- 
missioners, and drains and sewers too. There are 
thousands of them in most of the large Asiatic cities ; 
they hunt in packs, each keeping strictly to the bounds 
of its own beat; and all night long they howl in a 
fearful chorus, so that it is no easy matter to get any 
sleep at all, for the first night or two of your arrival in 
an Eastern Town. 

The appearance of the houses moreover, is not 
such as an English eye is accustomed to. They 
are square white buildings, usually enclosing a court, 
principally remarkable for the apparent scarcity of 
windows, and for their flat tops. The house-top 
is, as you probably know, used by the inhabitants 
of hot climates as a sort of drawing-room in the 
evening when the sun is low; or sometimes, when 
the nights are oppresively hot, for a sleeping-apart- 
ment. Frequently there is a flight of steps outside 
these houses, leading right from the street to the roof 
without communicating with the interior. And these 
aptly illustrate the meaning of our Saviour's advice to 
his disciples, when, in speaking of the coming dangers 
of the siege of Jerusalem, he says, "Let him that is on 
the house-top not come down to take anything out of 
his house," evidently meaning, "Let him escape as 
quickly as possible from the city, by the nearest way 



12 



PRELIMINARY. 



[LECT. I. 



he can find." — Now these exterior flights of steps 
would just afford him such a means of escape. Other- 
wise, one cannot imagine how a person on a house-top 
could find any other mode of egress but by coming 
down through his house, which our Lord recommends 
him in escaping not to tarry to do. 

It is a long day's ride from Jaffa to Jerusalem, a 
distance of some thirty miles, across for the most part 
a rocky and impracticable country. — The way lies first 
across the maritime plain, — the southern portion of the 
plain of Sharon, — and then among the rocks of the hill- 
country of Judsea. Of the means and mode of Syrian 
travel I need say little at present. Suffice it to remark 
that there are no roads, and no conveyances in the 
country, so you must either ride or walk r- — that there 
are plenty of robbers and rascals, and no police, so 
that you must go well armed ; though it is some conso- 
lation to know that these robbers are likewise very 
great cowards, and would only attack you if they saw 
you had no means of resisting them. There is more- 
over no local accommodation on this or any other line 
of travel in Syria, so that you must have with you a 
tent, and provisions, and a cook, and a dragoman or 
interpreter, besides baggage, mules, and muleteers. 
In order therefore to travel with comfort, (which as I 
said before is one of the desiderata of our modern pil- 
grim's progress,) a rather numerous cavalcade must be 
made up : owing however to the marvellous cheapness 
of every thing in the East, this is attended with no 
great expense. 

On these details however I will not now dwell, 
but suppose that we have already started on the 
way from Jaffa to Jerusalem, — that same way that 
has been trodden by countless pilgrim feet for now 
well-nigh two thousand years, and has echoed the 
various tongues of the denizens of almost every nation 
under Heaven ! — A mere track it is, over rocky hills, 
among straggling olives, and fig-trees, and stunted 



CHAP. I ] JERUSALEM. 13 

oaks. Here again, everything is different from what 
you are accustomed to see, (that is if you come straight 
from England.) — Everything reminds you that it is 
Asia and not Europe that surrounds you. — The air you 
breathe,— the sun that shines upon you, — the ground 
you tread on, — are not like the air, and sun, and ground 
of England. — No rich turf meadows, — no trim fences, — 
no square fields, — no snug country-houses, or church- 
towers, "bosomed high in tufted trees, 55 greet the sight. 
Instead of elms, and oaks, and thorn-hedges, there are 
grey olives, and fig-trees, and vines terraced on the 
rocty hill-sides; and fences of prickly cacti run riot 
over the sandy soil; and everywhere the dark rock 
peeps out from the thin covering of earth that is upon 
it ; — and to an eye fresh from English scenery, this 
Asian landscape looks sadly bare, and parched, and 
desolate. Notwithstanding this, it will be lovely and 
pleasant to your sight; for, as you ride through the 
land, you may see on every side a regular illustrated 
commentary on Scripture-scenes familiar to your ear, 
now first presented to the experience of your eye. 
Here and there are vineyards, and each vineyard has 
its watch-tower built of the rough stones about, where 
the agricultural implements are kept and the watchman 
as of old keeps guard, — suggesting the parable of him, 
"who digged a wine-press and built a tower: 55 — or 
herdsmen are watering their flocks at a well, which, like 
the patriarchs of old, they jealously guard from the 
intrusions of their neighbours: — or shepherds are 
watching their flocks, well-armed to guard against the 
incursions, (not now indeed like David, of the lion and 
the bear,) but of wolves and other beasts of prey that 
still infest the land, — recalling the memory of a "good 
shepherd who gave his life for his sheep! 55 

Sights and associations such as these are not uncon- 
genial to attune the mind to a mood meet for the greater 
sight which is to crown your pilgrimage : and, as the 
day wears on, you must needs be longing with eager 



14 



PRELIMINARY. 



[LECT. I. 



expectation for tlie moment when the first view of the 
Holy City will greet your anxious gaze. It can scarcely 
be without emotion, that the most phlegmatic of travellers 
would cast his eyes for the first time in his life on such 
a city as Jerusalem. No one probably ever read the 
Bible with any interest, without forming some conjecture 
in his own mind as to what Jerusalem must probably be 
like: whereabouts this event happened, or that? where 
Gethsemane was ? — where Olivet ? — where Calvary ?— 
A hundred spots dear to Christian remembrance, which 
have hitherto existed only in imagination or conjecture, 
will, from the moment you behold it, take form and 
shape, and exist in your mind as realities henceforth 
and for ever ! Everything that one sees and learns,— 
every new experience and acquisition, — becomes not 
only an event in one's own life, but as it were a part of 
oneself. It will be something to have added Jerusalem 
to oneself ! — That view which you will see when Jeru- 
salem first bursts upon your sight, will be an experience 
you have shared in common with Hebrew prophets and 
Christian apostles ! The outline and shape of those 
eternal hills that "stand about Jerusalem" was familiar 
to the eyes of Abraham, and Samuel, and David, and, 
above all, of Jesus Christ himself! A sight Moses 
desired to see, and was not permitted! A sight you 
have dreamt of, and thought of, and conjectured about 
all your life, as the most interesting, — the holiest, — the 
most desirable, perhaps, in the world ! 

So you dream, and think, and long, (as hill after hill 
is surmounted,) for the view to ourst upon you that 
will make Jerusalem once and for ever your own; each 
summit you mount, hoping it the last, discloses only 
more hills beyond, and not the view you long for ! — 
At length, as you begin to grow weary with hope 
deferred, and the sun is westering in the Heavens, you 
see the foremost of your train on the hill-top before you 
suddenly leap from his horse, and kneel, and point 
onwards with gesticulations of delight ! — each pilgrim, 



CHAP. I.] JERUSALEM. 15 

as he reaches the height falls on his knees, and bows 
himself in gratitude to Heaven at the sight !— "Prophets 
and kings have desired to see" what he has before him, 
and have not seen it ! And as you yourself press on and 
mount the hill, gradually there bursts upon your sight 
the view you most desired to see: — and you scarcely 
know what your feelings are, as you gaze for the first 
time on the Holy city, — "the city of the great king,"— 
the scene of the world's Eedemption, — "the joy of the 
whole earth," — Jerusalem ! 



Chapter II. 

EXTERIOR JERUSALEM. 



"There in the twilight cold and grey 
Lifeless, but beautiful she lay ; 
And from the sky serene and far, 
A voice fell like a falling star : 

Excelsior ! " 

Longfellow. 



First appearance of Jerusalem — Bird's-eye view — Mount of 
Olives — Panorama from thence — General aspect of the city— 
Remarks thereupon — Valley of Jehoshaphat — Valley ofHin- 
nom — Mosque of Omar — City wall — Golden gate — Gate of St. 
Stephen — Entrance. 



You have seen Jerusalem! Well !— Perhaps when 
the excitement of the moment is over, your first feeling 
is a feeling of disappointment: for to say the truth, 
(which it is sometimes very provoking to be forced to 
do,) the first view of Jerusalem whether you approach 
it from North, South, or West, is not in ^self a very 
striking one. Content yourself with imagining a long 
low range of castellated wall with a few domes and min- 
arets just visible above it, running along to a rocky 



16 



EXTERIOR 



[lect. I. 



platform that overlooks a steep ravine, and you have 
before you pretty well all that is comprehended in that 
first view of Jerusalem which enthusiastic travellers so 
love to rave about. — A view* there is however, (though 
never the first that greets a traveller's sight,) a view 
there is of J erusalem, that is unsurpassed in complete- 
ness and interest by any view in the world ! 

The mind of an Englishman is so mechanically con- 
stituted, that almost the first desire that enters it when 
he arrives at each new city in the course of his travels, 
is to get a "general idea" of the place in question, — 
its geography, — its size, — its shape, — its position. The 
shortest w^ay to do this is to mount the highest church 
or cathedral-tower in the neighbourhood, and obtain a 
bird's-eye view of the town from thence. Accordingly, 
one meets, go where one will abroad, troops of devoted 
fellow-countrymen, (laden with those tell-tale little pink 
Murrays that betray their undisguised nationality,) 
eagerly treading on each others heels regardless of 
fatigue up and down cork-screw staircases, and re- 
joicing, as only English tourists can, in looking down 
from an exalted atmosphere on the abodes of foreign 
manners and men of alien blood. But there are no 
cathedrals or church- towers in Jerusalem; not even 
such a thing as a "Murray" to be seen there! — And 
if you desire your "bird's-eye view" there, you must 
needs be contented to clamber up one of the towers of 
the great cathedral of nature without any cork-screw 
staircase to it; and if you must have a guide-book, the 
best one I know of to help you there is a very old book 
indeed, not published by Murray, nor confined to En- 
glishmen, nor usually bound in pink: a volume whose 
contents all sorts of people have stored in their heads 
and hearts, and which has made some stir in the world, 
they say, since first it came out. 

* I must here plead guilty to a pious fraud, of having, on the first 
delivery of this lecture, introduced my hearers to Jerusalem by this 
route from the East, and presented this improbable first view before 
them at first sight. 



CHAP. II.] JERUSALEM. 17 

Be your cathedral then, on this occasion, yonder grey, 
rocky hill, studded with stunted trees, that rises high on 
the East of the city, at the distance of about a mile: 
and remember, as you clamber up its craggy sides, that 
the ground you are treading is itself holy, being none 
other than that favourite haunt of Jesus Christ and his 
apostles, The Mount of Olives ! Here he loved to 
retire, to these sunny slopes, from the turmoil of the 
great city, and brood over unimaginable things. Here 
he discoursed to his disciples of the Past, Present, and 
Future of that City and Temple of God, that lay there 
across the valley "over against" them. 

On the summit of the Mount of Olives then, (from 
whence the accompanying sketch is taken,) let us take 
our stand, and contemplate the scene that meets our 
sight. The panorama is complete. There lies Jeru- 
salem, stretched as in a map before your eyes. And, 
although distant nearly a mile, you may easily distin- 
guish, (so clear is the atmosphere,) all that is going on 
within it;— the robed figures moving through the 
stree ts; — the dogs prowling over the rocks below; — or 
the worshippers on the bright sward that encloses the 
great Mosque in the foreground of the view ! There 
lies the captive city, maintaining through all her 
degradation the same leading features as she possessed 
of old, when David sang about her as the City of the 
Living God, and Jesus Christ wept over her devoted 
glory , n her present beauty, and her impending doom, 
from this self-same hill, and perhaps, from this self-same 
spot! 

You may recognise, at the first glance, the likeness 
between ancient and modern Jerusalem. Still, as 
of old, Jerusalem is builded as a city that is "at unity 
in itself; 5 ' enclosed all round by one ancient, castellated 
wall; and so entirely encompassed by this that, (except 
in one spot,) no outlying suburb,— no # straggling 
country-district, — no one extra-mural building or habi- 
tation is visible.— Still, as of old, you may " walk about 

c 



18 



EXTERIOR 



[LECT. I. 



Zion, and go round about her, and tell the towers 
thereof." Still, as of old, the eternal hills "stand 
round about Jerusalem," to guard and keep it, as once 
the Lord God stood round about that chosen people 
its inhabitants, to guard and keep them, in like manner, 
from both the pollutions and assaults of the nations of 
the world without, who might venture to approach to 
violate its sanctity ! 

It cannot fail, however, at once to strike any practical 
observer, that, according to our modern ideas of 
security, comfort, or convenience, the position of Jeru- 
salem is curiously ^7/-chosen for the site of a great city 
of the world. In the first place, those very hills, which 
were of old its defence, mostly command it; and would, 
in modern warfare, prove a disadvantage, and perhaps, 
a source of destruction to it. For instance, from such a 
position as that from which the accompanying sketch is 
taken, it is evident, that a bombardment such as 
Sebastopol has lately been undergoing, would, in a 
couple of hours, utterly destroy the whole place. In 
almost every other point of view its position is equally 
disadvantageous, and its features equally unlike those 
that characterise any other metropolis in the world. 
Fenced round for miles with hard, impracticable, 
rugged rocks, and with nothing like a road either to it 
or near, it seems to forbid the approach of commerce, 
and to possess no desire to promote, — no facility for, — 
no possibility of general intercourse with the world ! 
In such a spot food itse lf is not very easily obtained, 
and is inferior and expensive: and even water is, at 
some periods of the year, scanty and bad, and valuable 
from its scarcity! — For no river or stream flows by; no 
fertility surrounds it: and the lonely, barren, rocky 
hills that encompass it, support but little life, animal or 
vegetable, and are little better than a desert ! " No 
commerce, 5 ' to quote the eloquent words of AVarburton, 
"is able to approach its walls; — no thoroughfare of 
nations finds it in the way ! It seems to stand in every 



CHAP. II.] JERUSALEM. 19 

sense apart from the world ; exempt from its passions, — 
its ambitions, — and even its prosperity! Like the 
high-priest who once ministered in its temple, it stands 
solitary, and removed from all secular influences: it 
invites no worldly visitor to approach, for ease, plea- 
sure, or comfort; and receives only those who come to 
worship at its mysteries. All other cities of the earth 
are frequented by the votaries of gain, science, luxury, 
or glory. Jerusalem offers only privations to the 
pilgrim's body, — solemn reflections for his thoughts,— 
awe for his soul ! — Her palaces are ruins, — her hostels, 
dreary convents, — her chief boast and triumph is a 
Sepulchre!" 

And yet, somehow or other, in spite of all these 
disadvantages, it is no less true than of old, that " the 
hill of Zion is a fair place." There is a sad, mournful 
beauty that broods about the city in this her desolation, 
that is infinitely impressive. Though the stern earth 
beneath her is indeed like iron/ and the flaming sky 
above her as brass, — though doom and woe are written 
on her features, and no sign of present prosperity is 
there, yet lingers there some ancient charm even over 
her aspect of degradation : and I cannot think that her 
present appearance is at all disappointing, (as many 
travellers have found it,) or other than one might have 
expected. 

Such are the impressions which the general appear- 
ance of Jerusalem is calculated to produce. Let us 
now proceed to specify more in detail, the particular 
localities that are distinguishable, in this wonderful 
panorama of the city as seen from the same spot. The 
valley immediately beneath us, which separates the 
Mount of Olives from Jerusalem, is the valley of 
Jehoshaphat. Through this valley flows, (or used to 
flow, for it is nothing but a deep, dry channel now,) 
the brook Kedron: and close upon its banks, beneath 
us but out of sight, is the spot which is pointed out as 
* Deuteronomy xxviii, 23. 



EXTERIOR 



[lect. I. 



the Garden of Gethsemane. It is a parcel of ground, 
so to speak, distinguishable by the presence of a few 
olive-trees, of immense size, and an appearance of age 
so great as almost to warrant the tradition attaching to 
them, that they were in existence eighteen centuries 
ago, and witnessed that more than mortal agony and 
bloody sweat which our Saviour underwent in or about 
the spot! But alas for Gethsemane now! The Roman 
Catholic Church has somehow got possession of this 
venerable site, and has converted it, with an incon- 
ceivable ingenuity of bad taste, into a modern garden, — 
enclosing it with a square, high wall, — intersecting it 
with gravel-walks, box-borders, and flower-beds, — and 
building summer-houses about it. And from the 
midst of this tawdry vulgarity, those time-honoured 
olives raise their majestic branches, as though protesting 
against such a profanation! 

In the valley beneath us too, but just out of sight 
from our present point of view, are the tombs of the 
prophets, the pool of Siloam, and, (a little further to 
the left,) Siloam itself, a village of very bad repute. 
The sepulchres also of Zacharias, St. James, and St. 
Joseph, and the pillar which Absolom set up as a 
monument of himself, in "the king's dale," are still 
standing, ranged along the valley: memorials of past 
history, and glories long gone by. 

The other valley, that runs almost at right angles to 
the valley of Jehoshaphat, enclosing Jerusalem to the 
South-east, is the valley of Hinnom; and close above 
it is another parcel of ground, — linked yet contrasted 
strangely in its memory with Gethsemane, — which 
bears the title of "The field of blood," "called in the 
Hebrew tongue Aceldama," "the Potter's field," which 
the priests purchased to bury strangers in, with that 
thirty pieces of silver which was the price of innocent 
blood; the place whither the traitor Judas went out in 
his last despair, and committed suicide ! In the valley 
beneath, called by various names, Tophet,-— Gihon, — 



CHAP. II.] JERUSALEM. 21 

Hinnom, — or Gehenna (a mixture of both,) the idola- 
trous kings of Judah used to light their fires in honour 
of Moloch, and there made their children to pass 
through the fire. In after-times this valley, dese- 
crated by the memory of these former idolatries, was 
used as the unclean place,— the sink and drain of the 
city. And in the midst of it a fire was kept perpetually 
smouldering, in order to consume the mass of impurities 
collected here together, with the dead bodies of 
criminals, and all other rejected matter, " whose end 
was to be burned."— Hence, as from this receptacle of 
all that was noisome and impure, the Hebrews watched 
the never-ceasing smoke arising up, they imaged to 
themselves a place of torment "where their worm dieth 
not, and their fire is not quenched ! "—But now, this 
Gehenna wears no memorial of its former pollutions ! 
Time has swept away all traces of its defilements and 
idolatries,— and all is still and silent there ! 

It is strange to look on all these spots, now lying so 
deserted and dumb, and picture to oneself those famous 
crimes, and familiar histories that of old were enacted in 
them. If you had been looking down here eighteen 
centuries ago, you might have seen Judas Iscariot steal 
out of the city, on a Thursday evening, by the gate of St. 
Stephen, which leads you by the nearest way into the 
valley of Jehoshaphat, towards the Kedron, (a brook 
in those days,) and to the Garden of Gethsemane on 
the other side: and with him, descending into the 
valley, a multitude of men, with weapons, and lanterns, 
and torches flaming out in red flashes across the evening 
gloom. And some half-hour or so after, you might 
have seen the same party return to J erusalem by the 
same gate, and with them a prisoner whom they had 
captured in the garden below. And probably, between- 
whiles, one or more fugitive apostle would have passed 
you in the twilight, as they made their escape across 
the Mount of Olives, when they had forsaken their 
Lord and fled !— And had you been watching there on 



22 



EXTERIOR 



[lect. I. 



the next evening, — the Friday evening, — at the same 
hour, you might have seen the same Judas Iscariot 
steal forth again, this time from the Dung-gate that 
leads towards Gehenna, (meet type to him of Hell,) 
with horror and despair stamped upon his brow, and 
hurry away in hopeless agony, across the ravine to the 
opposite slope, where the field of blood was, and there 
hie him to some cleft in the rock, to shelter the last 
dreadful crime of his life from the face of Heaven, and 
be no more seen! And in the interval between those 
two evenings, other strange sights you might have seen 
from this commanding eminence: for the world was 
redeemed during that brief interval ; and scarce a thing 
took place on earth respecting that mighty deliverance 
but you might have beheld it distinctly from this very 
spot! 

But the object which will chiefly arrest your 
attention, — the prominent feature in this, and indeed 
every other view of Jerusalem, is the great Mosque, — 
the Mosque of Omar, — rising from the midst of a 
beautiful garden that is refreshing to the eye, as being 
the one fresh, fair spot on which, amid all the 
desolation, it can find a resting-place. — This beautiful 
building is said to occupy exactly the site of the ancient 
Temple, standing on Mount Moriah, one out of the 
four hills on which Jerusalem is built, — the other three 
being, as you are probably aware, Mount Zion, Acra, 
and Bezetha. On Mount Moriah it was that Abraham 
essayed to offer up his son Isaac, which is the circum- 
stance that chiefly renders the spot sacred to Mahom- 
medans, who as acknowledging the claims of the Old 
Testament, hold the memory of that patriarch in 
especial veneration. On the same spot, in after-times, 
was the threshing-floor of Araunah, the Jebusite, which 
David bought in memory of the there arresting of the 
hand of the destroying angel from visiting Jerusalem 
with pestilence ; and there, afterwards, Solomon erected 
his magnificent Temple. Thus endeared to memory 



CHAP. II.] JERUSALEM. «3 

by so many interesting associations, the spot is regarded 
with special veneration and respect by Mahommedans, 
Jews, and Christians alike. But the Mahommedans, 
being rulers of the land, "have taken to themselves 
the houses of God in possession," and have consecrated 
the ground exclusively to their own peculiar worship; 
and no Christian or Jew, or indeed any who is not 
Mahommedan, is permitted to enter within the pre- 
cincts of that beautiful garden, on pain of instant death. 

The Mosqe of Omar, environed by this its inviolable 
garden, occupies, I believe, an eighth part of the 
entire area of the city. It is by far the most graceful 
and beautiful building that Jerusalem contains; and 
suggests at once to the mind exactly that well-known 
expression of David's when, speaking of some former 
sanctuary of God, where the ark had found a resting- 
place, he terms it an "amiable tabernacle. 5 ^ The 
beautiful curve of the dome, the light proportions of 
the base, together with the grace of the general outline 
of the building, all bespeak its origin at a period when 
Saracenic architecture was in its glory. And the clear 
space of level sward from which it rises, of course adds 
very much to its general effect. 

Nor is the spot without evidences of its ancient 
greatness. If you walk along the wall of the city, 
which at its South-eastern angle encloses this Sacred 
Garden, or "Haram," as it is called, yoii may distinguish 
some interesting features in it, which attest to its 
having been, in all probability, the site of the Temple 
of Solomon. For along the base of this wall, especially 
near to its Eastern corner, are traceable stones of such 
immense size, and beautiful finish, as to be quite out 
of character with the rest of the building of the wall, 
and to bespeak the handiwork of better builders than 
either Turks or Crusaders, and an era of glory and 
prosperity long passed away ! These stones are, some 
of them, as much as thirty feet long! and are finely cut 
and bevilled. And I know not how else to account for 



24 



EXTERIOR. 



[lect. I. 



such, save as being veritable remains of that ancient 
Temple of the Jews to which our Saviour came up to 
worship. 

The upper part of this wall however is built with 
less care and precision; here and there even such 
incongruous forms as the fragments of marble pillars 
protrude from it, which are, no doubt, ruins of the 
ancient Temple, found on the spot, and incorporated 
into the wall by its careless builders, for lack of more 
suitable materials. On one of these pillars which 
stands out from the wall further than the rest, the 
Mahommedans have a legend, absurd enough, that their 
prophet will sit to judge the whole world assembled in 
the valley of Jehoshaphat immediately beneath him. 
The Greek church, likewise, are said to entertain a 
belief corresponding to this, that the valley of Jeho- 
shaphat is to be the scene of the last judgment. 
Possibly this belief may have arisen from the word 
Jehoshaphat, which means God or Jehovah will judge. 
It is called in some places in Scripture the "valley of 
decision;" and in the third chapter of the Book of 
Amos you will find passages which, if taken literally, 
would appear to sanction the notion thus attaching to 
this locality. 

Passing on, however, along this wall a little farther 
North-westwards, we come to a gate of beautiful archi- 
tecture, but apparently only sculptured on the dead 
face of the wall; and on the outside around it, is a 
Mahommedan grave-yard. This gate is called " The 
Golden Gate," and is the one through which, according 
to tradition, our Saviour rode, in his Palm Sunday 
triumph, to J erusalem, "meek, and sitting upon an ass, 
and a colt the foal of an ass." Over the Mount of 
Olives he must have passed that day, in his way from 
Bethany, close under the spot from which our view is 
taken, and wept over the city he saw so well from 
thence : and then passed on across the valley in through 
that gate ! Through that gate too, now blocked and 



CHAP. Il.j JERUSALEM. 60 

walled up, the Moslems believe that tlie Christians, 
when they take Jerusalem, (as they are fated to do 
some day',) will enter; trampling not only over the 
sepulchres of the "faithful," which are in the grave- 
yard outside, but straight through the Haram, the Holy 
Enclosure; defiling Omar's Mosque with unbelieving* 
feet, and marching in triumph to the city of David !— 
And though the Turks are such fatalists as to believe all 
this, as surely as though it had come to pass, yet they 
have built up the gate entirely, so as to offer ^ as 
practical an exclusion as possible, to the destiny which 
they believe to be inevitable ! 

Passing along from the Golden Gate in the same 
direction as before, we soon come to another real gate, — 
the Gate of St. Stephen,— so called because through it, 
they say, that first of Christian martyrs, was led forth 
without the city to be stoned. And having so far 
explored the exteriorf of Jerusalem, I propose that we 
should now enter it by this gate, and contemplate for 
awhile its interior aspect and associations. 



* I don't mean by this expression that people usually "believe with 
their feet." But it is customary among the faithful followers of the 
prophet to take off their shoes as a mark of respect. Christians 
believe with their heads and take off their hats I 

f I may here be permitted briefly to mention by name, the few 
other interesting objects that lie outside the city walls,— for except 
their names, there is little to be told about them. On the North- 
western side of Jerusalem is a large cavern of rock rising from the 
ground, which is called the Cave of Jeremiah.— Not far irom this is 
the excavated passage of Sepulchres called the Tombs of the Kings. 
Whilst to the South lie the stone-built pools which were of old the 
reservoirs of the city. And some distance beyond these, on the road 
to Bethlehem, (which lies five miles South of Jerusalem,) is the 
Sepulchre of Rachel, the wife of Jacob. Concerning the external 
objects on Mount Zion I shall speak hereafter. 



26 



INTERIOR 

Chapter III. 

INTERIOR JERUSALEM. 



[LECT. I. 



"Mark ye well her bulwarks; consider her palaces; that ye may 
tell it to the generation following." Psalm xlviii, 13. 



Entrance to Jerusalem — Pool of Bethesda— Pilate's house — 
Via dolorosa — Bezetha—Acra— Church of the Holy Sepulchre 
— Calvary — Pool of HezeMah — Mount Zion—Ccenaculum — 
David's Tomb — Protestant Church — Jeivish Mission — Jews* 
place of wailing — General remarks on Jerusalem's desolation — 
Retrospect of her history — Abraham — Melchizedek — David — 

Solomon — First temple — Gradual decline of greatness 

Various subsequent sieges and captivities — Herod the Great 
and his Temple — The consecrating memories of the life and 
death of Jesus Christ — Destruction and restoration — Crusaders 
brief recovery — Mahommedan captivity — Verification of pro- 
phecy — Conclusion, 



Long enough we have lingered about the precincts of 
the Holy City: our pilgrim- spirits desire more intimate 
acquaintance. — Shrines and temples lie within the 
circuit of those battlemented walls, and we fain would 
know them. — Albeit the natural features of the external 
landscape round are by far the most interesting and 
attractive, yet would we see somewhat too of her inner 
aspect, and take up the old cry of the Psalmist and 
say, "our feet shall stand in thy gates, O Jerusalem!" 

Let us enter then, by this gate of St. Stephen, and 
proceed inwards towards the centre of the city. — And 
first, as you emerge from the gate, observe that large 
square pit, paved with stone and choked up with 
rubbish, that lies on your left hand: between you in 
fact and the North-western wall of the Haram. That 



CHAP. III.] JERUSALEM. *7 

is, they say, the remains of that ancient pool of 
Bethesda, whereinto, as St. John tells us, "an angel 
was wont to descend at a certain season, and trouble 
the water; whosoever then first after the troubling of 
the water stepped in, was made whole of whatsoever 
disease he had!" But Bethesda now is dusty and dry, 
with cacti, and wild-flowers, and weeds growing up 
among the rubbish that deforms it : and no groups of 
anxious invalids, maimed, and halt, and blind, throng 
as of old its ruined banks; and its glory is departed 
with the rest! — Beyond this is a large mansion, called 
Pilate's house, still the residence of the Turkish 
Governor of Jerusalem. It is one of those looking out 
upon the Haram or Sacred Garden,— just as some 
houses in London "look out" upon the park,— and 
from the roof of this, we Christian "giaours" may look 
down upon the enclosure, (which it is death for us to 
enter,) and obtain the best view that is to be had of 
that fair spot and all that it contains. 

From this house, (the same of course, if it be Pilate's, 
to which our Lord was brought for judgment on that 
fatal Friday morning of his crucifixion,) there extends 
along, straight, deserted street, dreary beyond con- 
ception, — more desolate than any art could make it or 
any imagination conceive, — which has well been named 
the Via dolorosa. It leads straight from Pilate's house 
to close upon the reputed site of Calvary, and is that 
way along which our Lord is said to have passed to 
execution, after Pilate had pronounced sentence upon 
ki m ^ — w ith the crown of thorns upon his bleeding brow, 
and the cross of death upon his shoulder! 

This desolate road is somewhat disfigured by the 
s stations' which the Roman Catholics have erected, to 
mark those absurd incidents which they have fabled to 
have occurred during that momentous progress; of 
these the less I say perhaps the better. But still, along 
that sad and dreary street, you hear no sound, and 
meet no human being ! The weeds spring up upon the 



28 



INTERIOR 



[lect. I. 



crumbling walls on either side; and grass and wild- 
flowers flourish in the interstices of the uneven and 
untrodden pavement; the very dogs seem to prowl 
through it as though they knew it were a haunted spot; 
and if the legend be true respecting it, and it really is 
the road which our Saviour trod on his way to crucifixion, 
its present doom does certainly accord most remarkably 
with its ancient history! 

The quarter of the city that lies to our right hand, as 
we pass along this desolate road from Bethesda towards 
Calvary, is called Bezetha, and is that from which 
Titus, during the great siege, took the rest of the city. 
It contains nothing of any interest whatever in the 
modern city, and is mostly in ruins, tenanted by dogs, 
and overrun with cactus-plants, and weeds, and rubbish. 

Following the footsteps of our Saviour along this Via 
dolorosa, we pass from Bezetha to another quarter of 
the city called Acra: and after a walk of about half- a- 
mile, at some little distance to the left of this deserted 
street we reach a handsome old Gothic Church, pre- 
senting a richly-carved facade, and surmounted by a 
broken dome. It stands on the slopes of Acra, and a 
broad range of steps leads down to the level of its 
entrance. This is the celebrated Church of the Holy 
Sepulchre; and its dome is supposed to cover the exact 
66 place of the tomb" whence our Lord Jesus Christ rose 
from the dead. As you approach within about fifty 
yards of this Church, the desolation and solitude of the 
Via dolorosa is strangely changed, and the street you 
turn into is literally thronged by sellers of relics,— 
crosses, — holy beads, — crucifixes, — shells, — and every 
species of religious ware. On all sides the pilgrim is 
beset by crowds of these importunate pedlars, who have 
no mercy for any such weaknesses as feelings of 
devotion. Fighting or paying your way through these, 
(for you must do one or the other,) you enter the 
Church breathless, cross, and disenchanted: nor, (except 
of course great associations and sacred memories,) is 



CHAP III.] JERUSALEM. ^ 

there anything in the interior at all likely to revive any 
enchantment or enthusiasm that before might have 
possessed your mind. 

With a monk probably for your guide, you are 
ushered into a circular building, surmounted by the 
broken dome aforementioned, in the centre of which 
stands a white marble shrine containing two chambers. 
In the outer of these two chambers is a large stone, 
which you are told is the same stone that the angel 
rolled away from the door of the sepulchre on the 
resurrection morning; and in the inner one is the 
Sepulchre itself. It is a mere slab of white marble like 
a table, occupying about half of this inner chamber, 
and has nothing In its appearance either to prove or 
disprove its story, being merely the casing of the 
sepulchre beneath it. It is however, surrounded by all 
that superfluity of tawdry decoration, with which the 
Christians of foreign churches so often dispel the charm 
of sanctity that might otherwise rest around their 
holiest spots. And you look at a marble slab m a 
chamber eight feet square, decked out with shabby, 
bad taste and vulgarity, and can only sigh to think 
how unlike it is to what you would like the tomb ol 
Christ to be; and hope that this may not really be it, 
but that God may have preserved the real tomb of 
Christ from so undesirable a fate ! 

Having seen the Sepulchre, you most probably 
request to be shown Mount Calvary; not unnaturally 
imagining, as most travellers do who have not pre- 
viously ascertained the point, that it is a hill somewhere 
outside the town, (as to this day I verily believe the 
real Mount Calvary to be.) However, the Calvary of 
tradition— the Calvary which the foreign churches 
believe in, — is not only not outside the Town, but not 
even is it outside the Church! And when you ask 
where it is, you are shocked by the answer that 
"Calvary is up-stairs !" And, sure enough, but a few 
yards from the Sepulchre itself, a flight of stairs 



30 



INTERIOR 



[lecx. I. 



conducts you to another Chapel^ which you are told is 
Calvary^ the site of the Crucifixion. 

At one end of this Chapel,, beneath a lighted altar, 
and an immense crucifix, are three holes in the floor, 
overlaid with gold, which represent the sockets, into 
which the Crosses of our Saviour and the two thieves 
who were crucified with him were fixed: but these are 
so close together, that the crosses could scarcely have 
stood abreast in them, (as they are usually represented 
in pictures,) but must therefore, I suppose, if they 
occupied them at all, have been placed sideways. I 
confess that in visiting these sites of Calvary and the 
Holy Sepulchre myself, I both believed and hoped 
that they were not what they are professed to be : for 
so desecrated are they by bad taste, and so ridiculed 
by the traditions that surround them, that it is difficult 
to recall, in the midst of such a scene, any associations 
congenial to the Scriptural account of the Death and 
Resurrection of our Lord. 

The Church of the Holy Sepulchre belongs to three 
diverse denominations of Christians, viz, the Roman, 
the Greek, and the Armenian Churches. And these, 
in this their joint proprietorship of the Temple of the 
Prince of Peace, are said to fight so between them- 
selves, that the very dome that shelters what they 
believe to be our Lord's tomb, remains in the broken, 
ruined condition in which it is, because they cannot 
agree among themselves enough to allow of its being 
mended by any one of them singly, or all of them 
jointly: and, it was rumoured, that, in consequence, 
the Sultan would interfere and have it done himself!* 

^Besides Calvary and the Sepulchre, the Church, ( which is very 
extensive,) is supposed to contain, 1, The Stone of Unction, — 2, The 
Rocks that were rent on Calvary, — 3, The Pillar of Flagelation, — 

4, The Stone rolled away by the angelic herald of the Resurrection, — 

5, The spot whence the Virgin watched the Crucifixion, — and 6, 
(What guides seem to regard the thing best worth seeing in the 
place,) A full-length portrait of his late Majesty, King Louis Philippe, 
Serene Protector of the Holy Places, in a National Guard's Uniform ! 



CHAP. III.] JERUSALEM. 31 

I forbear to mention any of those ridiculous traditions 
with which they have surrounded the spot, which 
would only raise a laugh at the expense of a most 
serious and solemn subject. I will merely however 
mention, that these traditionary sites of Calvary and 
the Sepulchre have been the subject of much learned 
dispute, and to my own mind have been very satisfac- 
torily disproved. Those who wish to enquire further 
into the "subject, will find in Williams's Holy City 
most of the arguments for, and in Robinson's Biblical 
Researches most of those against, the genuineness of 
these interesting spots. 

Besides this Church of the Holy Sepulchre, there is 
nothing more of much interest in Acra. I might men- 
tion, in passing, the Latin Convent, a large, rambling 
building, in which it is customary for pilgrims to put 
up, during their stay at Jerusalem, and where hundreds 
are' accommodated at Easter every year. Also the 
pool of Hezekiah,* a large stone-paved tank; sur- 
rounded by houses, which, (unlike the larger pool of 
Bethesda,) still contains water. 

Crossing over from Acra to the left hand, we come 
to the last, and by far the best, and "most respectable" 
quarter of the city, the highest in elevation, and, 
perhaps, the most famous in name, Mount Zion. The 
best modern houses in the town are here; and the 
English, Germans, and most European residents at 
Jerusalem, have their dwellings in this quarter of the 
city. It contains, however, but few remains of an- 
tiquity. There is, indeed, outside the city wall, a 
rambling building, with a large, upper chamber in it, 
which is called the Coenaculum, or chamber m which 
the last supper was celebrated. But as the genuineness 
of this site rests on no better authority than that, which 
professes to point out also, close by, the exact spot 



* The window of the bedroom, which I occupied during my visit 
to Jerusalem, looked out upon this pool of Hezekiah. 



32 INTERIOR [LECT. I. 

where the cock stood, whose crowing aroused St. Peter 
to repentance, it cannot claim any very great amount 
of credit. A Mahommedan Mosque, also, which claims 
to be the Tomb of David, stands on Mount Zion. And 
these are, I believe, almost the only remnants of 
antiquity, which this quarter of the city contains. Of 
modern buildings there are, the British Consulate, and 
the houses of most of the European residents. Thef 
burial-grounds of various Christian Churches, (specially 
that of the Protestants,) that stand on the slopes of 
Zion, are spots not without interest to an English 
traveller. Last, but not least, our own English Protest- 
ant Church claims our attention; a well-proportioned, 
Gothic building, standing high on that holy hill: whose 
little band of worshippers, presided over by their 
Bishop, are labouring, zealously enough, but with 
very feeble success, towards the conversion of the Jews 
to Christianity. It is, certainly, small wonder that they 
do not succeed: for if the difficulty of converting a Jew 
to Christianity be great, as it is, here in England, it is 
surely increased tenfold at Jerusalem, the very strong- 
hold of the religion of his fathers, where he is sur- 
rounded by all those associations that would tend only 
to rivet more strongly to his affections the claims of his 
ancestral faith ! 

It would, indeed, be difficult to exaggerate, in 
describing the constancy and affection which the J ews 

fin the Roman Catholic burial-ground here, on Mount Zion, is 
one tomb of great interest; that of a gallant young Irishman, named 
Costigan, who perished in a too daring attempt to investigate accu- 
rately 5 the features and peculiarities of the Dead Sea. With but one 
companion, his servant, he had braved in an open boat, the dangers 
of that deadly region, and had, it was believed, made several most 
important and interesting discoveries regarding it. But after several 
days and nights' exposure, the miasma began to take fatal effect upon 
his system, and he was smitten down with fever. In this emergency 
too, ( from some mistake of his servant,) the supply of fresh water 
failed them, and their position became almost hopeless. In the last 
sta^e of illness, poor Costigan was carried back to the Latin Convent 
at Jerusalem, where he died, and with him all his discoveries, which 
he had, unfortunately, neglected to commit to writing. 



CHAP. III.] JERUSALEM. 33 

of Jerusalem display towards the city of their 
fathers. About one half of the population of the 
town consists of Jews, not, for the most part, born 
there; but natives of all lands, collected there from 
every clime by this strange tie of hopeless patriotism, 
desiring only to live, (though oppressed and scorned,) 
within the precincts of the Holy City, which they still 
esteem by divine right their own, and there to lay 
their bones, when dead, in the sepulchres of their 
fathers 1 

And they maintain there, to this day, a strange custom, 
which most strongly illustrates the intensity of this 
feeling. In one of the streets on the slopes of Mount 
Moriah, and close against the wall of the Haram, the 
Jews, men and women, assemble every Friday in the 
year, around some old stones of the wall, which they 
believe to be fragmentary remains of their Temple; and 
there wail and lament the lost glories of their race, and 
their fallen city captive and usurped, and the doom of woe 
that is upon them ! They have purchased the privilege 
to be permitted to do even this from the Mahommedan 
rulers of the city. And it is a strange and touching sight, 
in these days of practical unromance, to see men so 
strongly influenced by pure feelings of patriotism. 
There you may see, on any Friday you may choose to 
visit that street, men and women, in every variety of 
costume, differing according to the land of their birth, 
grouped about the street, some reading the scriptures, 
some praying, some wailing in a monotone, and some 
really weeping, and kissing the stones that recall to 
their minds the days of their byegone glory! Through 
the lapse of eighteen hundred years, that nation, 
scattered over the world, has never once forgotten her 
lost inheritance! Other nations have forgotten and 
have passed away, and the face of the world has utterly 
changed since then. But these alone have abided 
constant through all change, for how could they 
forget? — and have echoed the spirit of the Psalmist of 

D 



34 



INTERIOR 



[LECT. I. 



old, "If I forget thee, O Jerusalem, then let my right 
hand forget her cunning ! Yea, if I prefer not Jeru- 
salem in my mirth !" 

Inspired by feelings so strong and sublime as these, 
it is small marvel that the Jews of Jerusalem are 
but little impressed by the efforts of the Protestant 
Mission for converting them to Christianity. Better 
Christians, I verily believe, do not exist, than those 
who have devoted themselves to that cause : but the 
cause itself, though noble in theory, is, in practice, a 
failure. And indeed, a few years' experience of the 
fruitlessness of their earnest efforts seems to have 
satisfied some of them, that, under existing circum- 
stances, the cause is well-nigh hopeless; and that their 
labours may be far more usefully directed towards the 
conversion of members of almost any other sect or 
religion in the world. And accordingly, most of the 
religious conversions that do take place in Jerusalem, 
are, I believe, from among the Druses, Roman Catho- 
lics, Greeks, Maronites, or any other religious believers 
there, rather than the Jews themselves. 

Time would fail me now to specify in further detail 
the various objects of interest which Jerusalem contains. 
Having thus far particularised with regard to the most 
interesting of its sites, I would now say a few words 
before I conclude, relating more generally to the city 
as a whole, and the many memories its name recalls. 
Taken as a city, though its appearance, from the point 
of view from which we have regarded it is somewhat 
imposing, it is a small, poverty-stricken place enough 
now : — and all that is great or grand within it is of the 
Past, not of the Present. Those fine, old, battlemented 
walls, and gates of imposing architecture, — that magni- 
ficent Mosque, with its pleasant garden, — and the - 
decaying beauty of the Church of the Holy Sepulchre, — 
all date from the days, when Saracen and Crusader 
fought furiously among these rocky hills and valleys 
for the possession of the Sacred City ; and no monu- 



CHAP. III.] JERUSALEM. o5 

ment of greatness has sprung up here for the last five 
hundred years, since the echoes of their fierce war-cries 
have been hushed in death ! \ 

Nearly one half of the space within the city walls 
is occupied by ruins, and waste and desolate places: 
and the entire population of the city is said not to 
exceed 17,000 souls, which is not as much, by some 
thousands, as half the population of Exeter ! _ You may 
walk right round the walls of Jerusalem in about an 
hour's time, its entire circumference being about two 
miles and a half: and in that walk, though so close to 
the most famous city of the world, you may see # no 
human being, save, perhaps a chance Turkish sentinel 
loitering at the gate, or some Arab horseman on the 
brow of a distant hill! Within and without,— about, 
above, and around, — the doom of desolate woe is upon 
her ! The solitude of the wilderness stretches up to 
her gates ! The decay of death wears away her heart 
within! And the breeze, as it sweeps across from 
Olivet over her fair towers, and walls so still and sad, 
seems to waft the words of that ancient burden-song of 
her destiny, " O Jerusalem ! Jerusalem ! Thou that 
killest the prophets, and stonest them that are sent 
unto thee ! Behold, thy house is left unto thee 
desolate ! " 

It is well-nigh four thousand years ago now, since 
first that fair city was founded on that rocky hill. 
Melchisedek was king of "Salem" in those days, to 
whom Abraham offered tithes of the spoil he had taken 
from the kings of the East: and from his time 'till the 
days of David, the Jebusites occupied the city; nor 
could the advancing Israelites dispossess them of it. 
But David conquered the whole town, and took Mount 
Zion, and founded upon it the capital of his empire. 
And thus Jerusalem, standing on the confines of the 
two royal tribes of Judah and Benjamin, was equally 
situated in both, the boundary between them exactly 
dividing it in two. 



36 



INTERIOR 



[lect. I. 



On the opposite mountain of Moriah, where 
Araunah's threshing-floor had stood, Solomon, David's 
son, founded that magnificent Temple, which outshone 
in splendour all previous efforts of the kind to exalt 
the glory of the Most High. — There, had you been 
watching from this spot, (this summit of Olivet,) three 
thousand years ago, or little less, you might have seen 
the flame, morning and evening kindled on the altar, 
and the smoke of sacrifice ascending to Heaven day 
after day, to propitiate the offended majesty of the 
Lord of Sabaoth ! There stood the House which 
Solomon built for Him, with its various courts and 
chambers, its Holy of Holies, its courts of the Priests, 
its court of the Gentiles, its diversity of pomp and 
splendour ! "Howbeit the Most High dwelleth not in 
temples made with hands !" With Solomon's wisdom, 
the glory of Solomon's Temple passed away, even 
during his own lifetime : and the folly and wickedness 
of his successors alienated God's favour from the city 
which He had chosen to place his name there. At 
the revolt of Jeroboam, Jerusalem ceased to be the 
chief city of Israel, and remained only the capital of 
the two tribes of Judah and Benjamin, in which it was 
situated. 

Strange and interesting sights you might have seen, 
looking down from this same spot during the thousand 
years that followed: — the army of Senacherib, encamped 
around these walls, blasted by the breath of the 
destroying angel: — the reformations of Josiah: — the 
various sieges and captures of the city; first, by the 
swarthy hosts of Egypt, under Shishak; then by the 
neighbouring Israelites, under Jehoash; lastly, by the 
Babylonian armies, under Nebuchadnezzar, who razed 
her walls, and destroyed her temple, and burned her 
palaces in the fire ! — There you might have seen the 
departure into captivity of the sorrowful citizens; — 
the strange state of the city during the seventy years 
that intervened; — the joyful return, under Zerubbabel; 



CHAP. III.] JERUSALEM, Oi 

—the re-building of the walls;— the rising Temple;— 
the restoration of the ceremonies; — the sacrificial smoke 
once more rising to Heaven from Mount Moriah; — 
and the priests and Levites again thronging the 
courts of a new Temple ! — Then new conquerors 
approached her walls; — the Macedonian hosts of 
Alexander the great;— and the Egyptians, under 
Ptolemy; — and the armies of Antiochus; — and the 
revolting Maccabees; — and lastly, the invincible cohorts 
and legions of Rome, under Pompey, who reduced it to 
that subjection in which it remained 'till its destruction. 

Then rose another, and a fairer Temple, with golden 
roofs, glittering afar across the desolate hills, and pro- 
verbial for splendour and magnificence; the work of 
Herod the Great: and all nations of the world flocked 
to worship at the splendid shrine, and acknowledge 
Jerusalem once more as the City of the Living God ! 

But it is not the magnificence of Herod, or of 
Solomon, — not the martial might of David, — not the 
priestly pomp and glory of the Temple, or the world- 
wide celebrity of its worship, that have immortalized 
Jerusalem, and sanctified every spot that surrounds it. 
A humbler, — a more noble, — a diviner memory,— the 
memory of a single life, has consecrated once and for 
ever, the name of Jerusalem to the world ! And still, 
go where you will, each hill and valley, each rock and 
tree, each street and building there, is haunted by the 
one most sacred reminiscence of the once familiar 
presence of the Saviour of the world! 

This very Mount he must have crossed when he 
came up first, a mere boy, with his mother from 
Nazareth, to visit his Heavenly Father's house, and 
sat disputing with the doctors there. On the slopes 
of this self-same Olivet, he loved to come and sit with 
his disciples, and muse over this very scene. And 
most of the scenes of the tragedy of his eventful life 
are mapped out as it were, on the landscape below. 
Across yonder hills lies Bethlehem, where he was born. 



38 



INTERIOR 



[LECT. I. 



Behind us, and almost visible, is the river Jordan 
where he was baptised. Beneath and before us, stood 
the Temple where he was presented to God. To our 
right lies the wilderness where he fasted and was 
tempted. The streets and synagogues he taught in lay- 
below. His shadow sanctifies the name of every spot 
around, and never an one but recalls some deed or 
miracle of mercy and love ! Bethesda, and Siloam, — 
Kedron, and Bethany, — Gethsemane, and Calvary, — 
these are the names whose humble splendour has but- 
shone and outlived all the worldly glory of which the 
ancient city could ever boast ! He was a greater and 
more famous king than all; who came, not with the pomp 
of Herod, or the grandeur of Solomon, but "meek, 
and sitting upon an ass, and a colt the foal of an ass"! 
And the daughter of Zion welcomed her mightiest king, 
on that last Palm Sunday, when the Hosannahs of the 
multitude rang across this valley, and proclaimed that 
'Shiloh 5 was come ! The judgment, and the betrayal, 
and the death, you might have watched them all from 
here. The supernatural darkness at noonday, — the 
prophets risen from their graves, — the terror and 
excitement of the whole city, and of the world of 
proselytes collected there, — the earthquake, and the 
resurrection, and the first marvellous foundation of the 
kingdom of Heaven upon earth, — these are the memories 
that have made these barren hills and valleys, and 
yonder desolate old town immortal ! The memory of a 
Manger ! — The memory of a Cross ! — The memory of a 
deserted Tomb ! 

A few short years, and the last sad scene of destruc« 
tion was enacted over the guilty city. The Eoman 
armies, under Titus, came down and destroyed every 
human vestige of these holy sites. The abomination of 
desolation stood in the place where it ought not. The 
temple was burnt; the city razed to the ground; and 
the very name of Jerusalem so changed with its aspect, 
that the place thereof should know it no more ! 



CHAP. III.] JERUSALEM. oV 

In after ages, a Christian Emperor attempted to 
restore what Heaven had thus overthrown in wrath, 
and raised churches over conjectured sites, which his 
successors converted into pagan temples : and a feeble 
Christian worship was maintained here for a few 
centuries, till the Mahommedan came down and sub- 
stituted here the temples and worship of his own faith. 
And in vain Europe poured forth her crusading hosts 
to rescue the spot from his grasp. 

Once however, and but once, for a few short years, 
the efforts of the Christians were crowned with a terrible 
success. Little less than eight hundred years ago, on 
the evening of the fifteenth of July, 1099, an army of 
Christian crusaders lay encamped in that valley of 
Jehoshaphat below; and, had you been watching here 
then, you might have heard the soft melody of chaunted 
psalms, and seen the Christian procession winding 
through the valley, with crosses for banners, and the 
smoke of incense! But as the night advances, the 
praises of God die away, and other sounds greet your 
ear. The fiercest battle-cry that ever was heard, suc- 
ceeded to those peaceful hymns. And that very night 
the Christian crusaders rode victors into Jerusalem, 
"over the corpses often thousand slaughtered Mahom- 
medans, through streams of blood reaching in places to 
their saddlebows!" 

After the lapse however of not many years, Saladm 
re-conquered the city for the Turks; and, ever since 
then, the Mahommedans have been lords and masters 
of the place; and the green standard of the Prophet, 
with its crescent and its star, has waved triumphantly 
over the spot where the Cross should have been. And 
gradually, in the decay of the Turkish Empire, Jeru- 
salem, by misrule and neglect, has fallen into her 
present state of desolation too, and her glory and her 
life have alike departed from her ! 

Every word of woe uttered by the prophets of old 
against her,— eyery denunciation pronounced by our 



40 



INTERIOR 



[LECT. I. 



Lord upon her, — seems to the letter fulfilled, and rises 
involuntarily to the ear, as one gazes on her desola- 
tion, like the dirge of her departed glory! "Thy 
silver is become dross, thy wine mixed with water ! 
Your country is desolate, your land, strangers devour 
it in your presence, and it is desolate as overthrown 
by strangers ! And the daughter of Zion is left as a 
cottage in a vineyard, as a lodge in a garden of cucum- 
bers, as a besieged city ! " And the wind, as it wails 
around Calvary, bears again, in mournful answer, the 
memory of those sad and solemn words of Jesus Christ, 
spoken under far other circumstances, 66 O Jerusalem, 
J erusalem, thou that killest the prophets, and stonest 
them that are sent unto thee ! How often would I have 
gathered thy children together, even as a hen gathereth 
her chickens under her wing, but ye would not! And 
now, behold, your house is left unto you desolate ; for 
I say unto you, ye shall not see me henceforth till ye 
shall say, Blessed is he that cometh in the name of the 
Lord!" 

* * * 

I cannot conclude this Lecture without expressing 
my thanks to the very large audience I have had the 
honour of addressing, for the kindness with which they 
have received, and the attention with which they have 
listened to me this evening;* and begging them to 
unite with me in thanking the kind friend who has so 
ably assisted me, by means of the beautiful drawing 
that illustrates this Lecture. And if by what I have 
said to night, I have enabled any of you to realise, in 
some degree, what Modern Jerusalem is, and what 
ancient Jerusalem may have been like; — if I shall have 
enabled any to picture to himself more accurately, 
some of the details of those scenes and circumstances 
of Scripture narrative, which must needs possess for 

*I purposely let this sentence stand, as a reminiscence most 
grateful to myself, and, perhaps, to many other of my audience, of 
the evening of Nov. 15, 1856. 



CHAP. III.] JERUSALEM. 41 

them a greater interest than any other in this world;— 
if I have enabled any to take away from here a true, 
and not unpleasant recollection of the holiest and most 
marvellous spot that earth contains; I shall feel that, 
(though I may have done but very feeble justice to the 
magnitude of my undertaking,) I have not altogether 
in vain spoken to you to night on the subject of 
♦Modern Jerusalem! 

* Being anxious in the present publication to convey to my readers 
as truthfully as possible, the impression which the sights and scenes 
of Modern Jerusalem made upon my own mind at the moment oi 
seems them, I may perhaps, venture here to insert some verses, 
written bv mvself from Jerusalem in a letter to a friend, descriptive 
of the unpleasing sensations which the aspect she now presents is 
calculated to produce. 

Lines written in a letter from Jerusalem, JSov. 1852. 

Of lions, saints, and holy shows 

Solemnly weary and disgusted,— 
(And sights which none believe, save those 

Whose faith can scarce be trusted);— 
Though conscious that where e'er I rove 

About,— on all sides,— and around,— 
Blest by God's own peculiar love, 

Is consecrated ground ; 

My spirit finds relief and ease 

In passing for one moment o'er 
From tinsel shrines and mummeries, 

Home to its native shore ! 
Home,— from this sad devoted site 

Of many a fond heart's purest dream,— 
Home,— to where equity, and right, 

And reason are supreme ! 
Home ! With such mournful sights in view, 

With joy I turn to thee from them ! 
And sit me down to write to you 

Prom old Jerusalem ! 
Jerusalem ! What memories bright 

Does not that sacred name suggest, 
The Past and Puture to unite, 
And make the Present blest? 

For here, Faith's eye can only see 

A God-beloved and ancient Town I— 
A figure nailed upon a Tree !-— 
A Glory, and a Crown I— 



42 



An open Tomb ! — a risen Lord ! — 

A baffled plot ! — A battled strife ! 
The Serpent vanquished by the Word !— 
And Death out-done by Life ! 

Long be such recollections thine ! 

Alas, my friend, that any worse, 
Less bright and holy, should be mine ; 
But I behold her curse ! 

Her curse ! — Not beautiful, or grand, — 

Not fallen low in degradation 
The city lies, not as the land 
Forlorn in desolation ! 

But warmed by some unnatural life, 
By most degenerate footsteps trod, 
Her streets resound sectarian strife 
Beneatli the curse of God ! 

Christians, beneath a gilded Cross, 

And round about a marbled Tomb, 
Fight over daubs, and beads, and dross, 
And candles, and perfume ! 

And brainless bigots even here 

liaise often such a shameless riot, 
The very Turk must interfere 
To keep the Christian quiet ! 

Her children, gathered, few and old, 
Their father's sepulchres to share, 
Are haunted by the lust of gold, 
Or straitened to despair ! 

No sign I see of coming light, — 

No dawning here of Truth or Peace, — 
No health, — no noble love of right, — 
No prospect of release ! — 

Oh pray for Zion ! May the sigh 

That most your inmost bosom stirs, 
Your fondest wish, — your heartiest cry, — 
Your holiest prayer be hers ! 

Birthplace of Peace ! It cannot be 

At least until thy Lord be come, — 
That Peace, or Love, or Truth in thee 
Again shall find their home ! 



I need scarcely add that it is not for any poetical merit (for they 
possess none,) but merely as illustrative of the impression produced 
on my mind by the aspect of Jerusalem, that I venture to insert 
these verses. 



LECTURE II. 



juDm, 

ITS MODEKN ASPECT, AND 
ANCIENT ASSOCIATIONS. 



JUDAEA. 



Lecture II. Chapter I. Eastern Judaea. 



"Where is the land with milk and honey flowing, 
The promise of our God, our fancy's theme? 
Here over shattered walls dank weeds are growing, 
And blood and fire have run in mingled stream ! " 

Christian Year, 



Preliminary remarks on the country of Judcea — Its smallness 
and sterility — Its fame — Its extraordinary physical geography — 
Tour of Eastern Judcea — Starting from Jerusalem — Picturesque 
cavalcade — Moab mountains — Bethany and its memories — 
Wilderness of Judcea — View of the Jordan valley. 



Having already attempted to describe to you more 
or less fully, the objects of interest contained in the 
Modern City of Jerusalem, and dwelt at some length 
on the interesting associations and memories which the 
contemplation of that sacred spot recalls, I propose 
now to go on to speak more particularly of that country, 
or province of Judsea, of which J erusalem is the capital, 
as forming part or continuation of the same subject; 
and to endeavour to bring before you as interestingly, 
and to enable you to realise as truly as I can, what the 
JUDiEA of our own times is like; — the aspect and 
character of its landscape, — its towns, — its wilderness, — 
its hill-country, — its lowlands,— its coasts, — its famous 
river, — and its most mysterious sea ! 



46 



EASTERN 



[LECT. II. 



The country which I am about to describe is mar- 
vellous, not in one only, but in every respect. — Regard 
it which way you will; — take its past history, — its 
present condition, — its world-famous children, scattered 
with the mystery written on their faces, over every 
land and nation under Heaven, — or its future destiny, 
— all are alike uniform and matchless in marvel ! 
Other lands, and other kingdoms of the world you may 
find, worthy of wonder in one respect or another: but 
this one is wonderful in all ! From whatever point of 
view you look at it, you will find a corresponding 
mystery, and an uniform singularity! How strange 
its past history is we all know; — with the distinctive 
aspect that characterises its ancient people we are 
familiar; — its glorious promises of future destiny we 
must all have frequently heard; — and not less strange 
and mysterious than all these, — not less unlike the other 
countries of the world, — not less peculiar and distinc- 
tive, — are the natural, physical features of its landscape, 
— its fertile and its barren places, — its sea, surnamed 
of Death, — the rugged elevation of its hills, and the 
unnatural depression of its plain ! 

Equally strange too, and worthy of wonder, is the 
mode in which the wrath, predicted of old by the 
prophets of God, has, in spite of all probabilities, been 
fulfilled to the letter, against that devoted land! 
Equally strange to mark, how its present aspect bears 
abundant witness that once its condition was, — and, 
therefore, may again be, — the exact reverse of what it 
now is. — But that what it now is, is just what, under its 
other aspect, God declared that it should be ! — In truth, 
into that one spot of earth, and on that one people, God 
would seem to have crowded a multitude of marvels, as 
a perpetual witness to his truth. One wonder corrobo- 
rates and corresponds with another, in bearing testimony 
to that ancient tale, which invests with additional 
mystery this already marvellous land, which is the 
home, past and future, of the chosen people of God ! 



CHAP, t.] JUD^A. 4/ 

This land of Judaea then, so pregnant with interest, 
so fruitful in wonders, is that Southern portion of the 
Holy Land, that is bounded on the North, by the 
frontier of Samaria— on the West, by the Mediterra- 
nean Sea —on the South, by the desert of Arabia 
Petrsea,— and on the East, by the Dead Sea, and the 
Jordan. 

Within these narrow limits,— (Iww narrow you can- 
not fail to be struck, if you will compare them by the 
scale of miles, in any map, with the dimensions of any 
other country,)— within these narrow limits lies this 
country of the most famous race, itself, perhaps, one 
of the most famous kingdoms of the world ! Within 
these limits, that comprise a territory so small that 
you may easily descry its boundaries on all sides at 
once from the higher hills within it,— a kingdom not 
half as large as the Crimea,— a kingdom which, m 
point of size, will bear no comparison with any other 
kingdom in the world, (unless it be some of the smallest 
of the German principalities, whose insignificance we 
are accustomed to laugh at,)— a kingdom not so large 
as Yorkshire, or even, perhaps, Devonshire, — within 
such contracted limits as these, were those world- 
famous portions of history enacted, which have made 
Judsea a centre of unrivalled interest to all ages and 
races of men to which civilization has penetrated ! _ 

It is as though God had determined that sometimes 
in the destinies of nations, as of individuals, that great 
principle of his should be demonstrated, whereby the 
weak things are chosen to confound the mighty, and 
the small to out-do the great ;— whereby the race is not 
always to the swift, nor the battle to the strong;— 
whereby the weakest voice is chosen to perfect the 
praise, the feeblest arm to win the victory:— and to 
give the world one illustration more of that method of 
his dealing with them,— that putting down of the 
mighty and great, and exalting of the humble and the 
l ow ly ; _by making such a small,, barren, unnoticeable 



48 



EASTERN 



[LECT. fl-j 



corner of the earth as this Judsea is, to out-do, in the 
splendour of its fame, — the celebrity of its history, — 
and the wonder of its race, — all that the annals of the 
most magnificent and mightiest empires of the world 
has recorded of their power,— their marvel,— or their 
glory! ^ 

And it is only by keeping constantly in mind this 
extreme c smallness ' of the kingdom of Judsea, that we 
shall, (as I hope presently to show,) be enabled to 
understand many of the pervading ideas of the ancient 
Jews, and many of the allusions of the Bible, which 
else were comparatively obscure. The same remark 
will, indeed, equally apply to the whole of the Holy 
Land; which is all so narrow, that its Eastern and 
Western boundaries are constantly visible at once from 
its higher hill-tops ; the constant sight of which, — the 
great Western Sea on the one side, — and the hostile 
lands beyond the river on the other, — must have had a 
very powerful influence on the minds of its inhabitants, 
that is very noticeable throughout Scripture — but 
this is more especially the case in Judaea, where the 
physical features of the landscape are so strange, and 
the surrounding lands form so striking a background 
to every prospect you look out on ! 

With these few general remarks, (vastly insufficient 
indeed adequately to express all the marvel which the 
name of Judsea suggests to the mind, but yet sufficient 
for my present purpose, of introducing and commending 
the subject to your attention,) I will content myself: 
and now pass on to more detailed description, and 
particular illustration of my subject. 

In my previous lecture on Jerusalem I described so 
fully the journey thither, the various modes of reaching 
it, and the character of the immediate environs of the 
city itself, together with its own exterior and interior 
aspect, that I will now pass over all mention of these 
details, for fear of repetition, and suppose you to be 
travellers, who having, so to speak, already "lionised" 



CHAP. I.] JTJDJEA. 49 

the Jewish city, and familiar now with Modern Jeru- 
salem itself, propose proceeding further on from thence, 
to investigate the wonders of the land of which it is the 
capital. 

* * * 

During his sojourn at Jerusalem, it is customary for 
almost every Christian traveller to make a three days' 
excursion to the Eastward, in order to visit the follow- 
ing interesting places, — Jericho, — the J ordan and its 
valley, — the Dead Sea, — the convent of St. Saba, in 
the wilderness of Engedi,— and Bethlehem:— returning 
to Jerusalem at the close of the third day.^ As these 
spots comprise by far the most interesting half of 
Judaea, — as they are most usually and most conveni- 
ently seen in this way, — and as I saw them myself so, — 
I should propose commencing my subject by a full 
description of this most interesting little tour: proceed- 
ing then to give some account of the other parts of the 
land, and concluding with some remarks of a more 
general nature on its marvel, and its history;— its 
present condition, and its future destinies ! 

If you will consult the Map of Palestine, you will 
find that the way from Jerusalem to J ericho lies in a 
North-Easterly direction straight across the valley of 
Jehoshaphat,— over the Mount of Olives, — past the 
village of Bethany, — into the wilderness of Judsea; — 
after traversing which for some miles, you descend into 
the broad, deep Jordan-valley, in the midst of which 
is situated Jericho, the destination of our first day's 
journey. The actual distance is not so much as twenty 
miles; but Eastern travel is such a primitive operation, 
and so curiously uninfluenced by any of the modern, 
expeditious, "go-ahead notions" of our Western World, 
that twenty miles is a day's journey amongst orientals, 
who still, as of old, compute their measurements not 
by distance but by time, and will tell you a place is 
distant, not so many miles, but so many hours, in the 
same way as they used to talk of a "Sabbath day's 

E 



50 



EASTERN 



[lect. II. 



journey;" always progressing at the same steady foots- 
pace in which journeys have ever been performed in 
this country, since the days when Abraham first entered 
the land from the far East, behind the slow/ measured 
tread of his camels and his flocks ! It is quite a novelty 
not without its charm to an Englishman, for once in 
his life, to go so slow. 

Forth then let us start in imagination while the day 
is yet young, (for Orientals though very slow are .very 
early in their habits, and have got half through the day 
by the time our English day has begun,) and as the 
sun is rising, pass out through the Gate of St. Stephen, 
and cross the valley of Jehoshaphat and the dry bed of 
the Kedron that divides it, and on past Gethsemane, 
with its old olives stirring their dark leaves in the fresh 
morning breeze, and as we crawl and clamber up the 
rough, steep side of Olivet, pause for one moment to 
contemplate the train that accompanies us. 

For perhaps the most picturesque feature of Eastern 
travel is formed by your own train, — your baggage- 
mules and attendants, — as they wind slowly in and out 
of sight before your eyes, with their strange costumes 
and bright varieties of colour. Foremost, probably, 
rides that important personage your dragoman, — 
courier, — interpreter, — factotum, — the 'sine qua non' 
of Eastern journeying, who provides you with every- 
thing necessary for your expedition at a price fabulously 
moderate. There is nothing, (except perhaps courage, 
honesty, and truth,) there is nothing that he is not 
warranted to furnish. Language, — food,— lodging, — 
conveyance, — guidance, — train, — friendship and devo- 
tion, — bed, — breakfast, — dinner, — supper,— shelter, — ■ 
management, — and service, — all emanate from that 
same wonderful being ! He is usually a Greek or an 
Egyptian, and clad in his native bright-coloured 
costume, with a panoply of glittering weapons,— 
pistols, — gun, — sword, — dagger and what not, — forms 
an imposing feature against the sombre-coloured 



CHAP. I.] JUDJEA. 51 

landscape of grey olive and rock, — and looks like a hero 
in the distance. But a nearer acquaintance usually 
proves him rather useful than heroic, — unless the habit 
of romancing, or in other words of lying to any 
amount, and invariably running away whenever danger 
is near, be elements of the heroic character. — After 
him ride various other subordinate functionaries 
belonging to the train, — cook, — servant, — muleteers, 
usually Turks or Arabs,— all bright figures, turbaned 
and berobed like so many senators, with loose, flowing 
garments, and beards, and a dignity of bearing such 
as an artist's eye would love to dwell on; even the 
patient mules that walk before them, bearing tents, — 
portmanteaus, — food, — kettles, — beds, and all most 
unromantic necessaries of life, — seem to have caught 
something of their dignity. Lastly, the wild figures 
of a few Bedouins, with all the freshness of their native 
desert upon them, complete the company that, winding 
in and out among the rocks and trees, keep appearing 
and disappearing before you. Their long, coarse, 
striped, brown mantles, and bright Keffias, — their dark 
faces and swarthy limbs, — their bright eyes and glitter- 
ing arms, all suggesting the savage, gipsy life of 
another quarter of the globe ! 

Their society is necessary for this simple reason. He 
that would make the journey from Jerusalem to Jericho 
in these days, must needs previously secure an escort of 
Arabs to guard as well as to guide him, if he would 
avoid sharing the fate of the man in the parable, who, 
going down thither of old, fell among thieves, and was 
left on the road-side, robbed, and stripped, and half- 
dead! For the inhabitants of the dreary region that 
intervenes between those ancient cities, bear precisely 
the same bad character as of old ; the only difference 
being that, now-a-days, you would be just as likely 
to be robbed at Jericho itself, as on the way thither. 
Before leaving Jerusalem therefore, a stipulated price, 
(about £1 per head I think,) is paid by every traveller 



52 



EASTERN 



[LECT. II. 



to the Sheik of an Arab tribe, who agrees in acknow- 
ledgment thereof, to send with you, as a guard, some 
half-dozen young Arabs armed with long guns and 
looking very fierce, but who in the event of real 
danger, would be sure to be the first to run away. 
This is in truth a species of black mail which you pay 
to the robbers not to rob you: — a fiction sanctioned by 
custom, just as reasonable as many others I could 
mention nearer home. 

But by this time we shall have reached the summit 
of the Mount of Olives, and with one last glance at the 
beautiful city behind us, we press on Eastwards towards 
those distant Mountains of Moab, that lie beyond the 
Jordan and the Dead Sea, which the morning sun is 
now lighting up, and throwing out in beautiful relief 
of light and shade, and which always form so striking 
a background to every view of Jerusalem and the sur- 
rounding spots, as you look towards the East.* 

Now the constant sight of those Mountains, — on 
which the rising and the setting sun produces wonderful 
effects, — is just one of those features of their landscape 
that had such a powerful influence on the minds of the 
ancient Jews. There, — in sight, — yet divided from 
them by such a wilderness, — by such a plain, — by such 
a river, — and by such a sea, ■ as have no parallel or 
likeness in the world, — yet ever plainly in sight, — lay 
the precincts of the hostile country of Moab, — related 
to their race and yet their foe, — recalling the memory 
of many a hard-fought fight, and many a year of toil- 
some wandering ! There, among those hills, Balaam 

* There was this year, (1856,) in the Exhibition, a very striking 
picture, "The Scape-goat," which all who saw cannot fail to remem- 
ber. The victim, expelled to that land of separation with the sins of 
the nation on its head, is standing forlorn and dying among those 
saline incrustations that fringe the shores of the Dead Sea. While 
from the further shore rise those same Mountains of Moab, depicted 
with marvellous accuracy and truthfulness,— their strange unearthly 
aspect of colour and form heightening the solemnity and mystery of. 
the scene in a wonderful manner, as of every other scene in which 
they form a feature. 



CHAP. I.] JUDiEA. 53 

and Balak had stood of olden time, with the princes 
of the land, by their seven smoking altars, and sought 
in vain for a curse against the tribes of Israel, their 
forefathers, encamped in thousands below, whom 
God had not cursed, and forced unwillingly to 
utter only blessings !— There, among those Moab hills 
was Pisgah, from whose lofty summit their great 
leader and lawgiver had viewed the promised land 
he was not permitted to enter. There, among those 
Moab hills somewhere was his sepulchre, of which 
"no man knoweth the place unto this day." There 
his body had disappeared. There, they might have 
fondly fancied his spirit hovered still, haunting the 
spot he last beheld on earth! No wonder the name 
of Moses was so often on their Hps! No wonder 
his memory and his commands met with such respect, 
and were held in such awe and reverence among the 
inhabitants of Jerusalem, when, every time they cast 
their eyes Eastward, those Moab hills, so fruitful of 
suggestions and memories such as these, were thus 
continually meeting their sight! 

Winding thus along over the summit of Olivet, as 
Jerusalem fades from sight we come all at once upon a 
small, grey, stone village, situated in the midst of the 
next ravine, at a distance of not quite two miles from 
Jerusalem, " about fifteen furlongs off." Here, nestled 
out of sight among olive-grounds and rocks, is that 
Bethany, whose name is so familiar to us all as the spot 
where our Lord loved to retire from the turmoil of the 
great city; and which still retains among the Arabs the 
name of El-Azariah, derived of course from the famous 
miracle, the raising of Lazarus, of which it was the 
scene. 

There is no Murray's hand-book for Judaea, or 
doubtless we might gather from that cosmopolitan pub- 
lication the precise population and most respectable 
houses that Modern Bethany contains, and all its lions 
, to boot. Where Lazarus's cave is,— and Simon the 



54 



EASTERN 



[LECT. II 



Leper's house: both of which guides still profess to 
show. Let it content you however to be thankful for 
once that you are out of even Murray's reach; and 
when your dragoman has finished the jargon of bad 
English or Italian and worse history with which he will 
here and elsewhere deem it his duty to favour you in 
illustration of the place, let your mind stray for itself 
unfettered, (as is the best plan everywhere,) amid the 
associations which its name, — the name of Bethany , — 
evokes from the chambers of your memory. Foremost, 
that gaunt and ghastly figure of Lazarus three days 
dead, — " bound hand and foot with grave-clothes,"— 
stalks forth at the bidding of Him who is the resurrec- 
tion and the life ! Here, in the home of the family that 
shared his love, Mary sits at the feet of Jesus, learning 
lessons of eternal wisdom, and choosing that good part 
that shall never be taken away from her. Here our 
Lord sits at meat in a leper's house, and a woman "who 
is a sinner" comes and anoints and kisses his feet 
unrebuked, and departs in peace with her sins forgiven 
her ! And above all the words of St. John linger in 
our ears as we think of Bethany, that here "Jesus 
wept." Of a truth, all the remembrances of that spot 
are among the tenderest and most beautiful which the 
gospel contains ! 

But tiresome dragoman and screeching Arabs soon 
dispel your dream of the past, and with a last glance at 
the little Syrian village, you pass on your Eastward 
journey, and suddenly, ere you are many yards beyond 
it, all vegetation ceases, and you find yourself suddenly 
in a region of utter desolation and death. This is the 
beginning of the Wilderness of Judaea. Here as you 
pass on, hills upon hills of rock, and blank, brown mud 
rise up in most fantastic shapes around you. Strange, 
stern, and gloomy; a hideous, — howling, — wilderness; 
such a scene of desolation as we, accustomed as we are 
to green cultivated ground and round undulating hills, 
can form no previous conception of; for here, with not 



CHAP. I.] JTJMA. , 55 

a blade of grass, not a leaf, not a sign of life to be seen 
the blank vellow hills rise to heaven peaked and jagged 
like angry'flames of fire, and anon sweep down abruptly 
hundreds of feet below you! In such a region ot 
frowning gloom might imagination picture to itseli the 
homes and haunts of demons ! And this wilderness 
borders close upon Jerusalem, and reaches all across 
from thence to the Jordan valley and the Dead Sea 
occupying nearly a quarter of the territory of Judeea . ! 
Somewhere in the midst of this marvellous desolation it 
was that our Lord, with the waters of Baptism fresh 
upon his brow, came up from Jordan and remained m 
solitude, fasting forty days and forty nights, when 
Satan thrice essayed in vain, by temporal and spiritual 
allurements, to tempt him from the perfection oi his 
comtancy.^ hay{ng passed through about ten 

or a dozen miles of this dreary region, there bursts upon 
the sight a lovely and comparatively fertile plain,— the 
valley of the Jordan, outstretched far beneath us:— 
and as we emerge from this wilderness, we look down, 
as from a platform, on one of the strangest prospects 

in the world. . . £ £ .,. 

The valley, presenting a curious mixture _ ol fertility 
and barrenness, runs, like the course of its river, North 
and South. On the East it is bounded by the silver 
line of the Jordan enclosed in waving foliage, above 
which rise abruptly those same trans-j or dame hills, 
visible in their continuation from all parts olJudaea.— 
On its Southern extremity gleams the deep-blue surface 
of that mysterious Sea of Death, beneath whose waters, 
men say, that Sodom and Gomorrah lie entombed.— lo 
the North, the valley itself that has borne down hither 
the waters of Jordan from the Sea of Gahlee, stretches 
far away beyond sight.-And on the West it is walled 
in, as it were, by the rocky ridge whereon we are 
supposed to be standing, of the hills of the Wilderness 
of Judaja. At some distance down, about hali-way 



56 EASTERN [LECT. II. 

between us and the Jordan, stands, among waving 
shrubs, an old square tower that marks the spot where 
Jericho once stood. Besides this, and a few mud huts 
that stand around it, there is no sign of human habita- 
tion or trace of human handiwork. 



Chapter II. 
Eastern Judjea (continued.) 



"Now this valley is a very solitary place : the prophet Jeremiah 
thus describes it : ' A wilderness, a land of deserts and pits, a land 
of drought and of the shadow of death, a land that no man,' but a 
Christian, 'passeth through, and where no man dwelt/ * 

Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress, 



Physical geography of the Jordan valley — Fount of Elisha — 
Apples of Sodom — Jericho — Its ancient associations and 
modern aspect — The river Jordan — Annual Pilgrimage — The 
Dead Sea and its memories — Wilderness of Engedi — Convent 
of St. Saba — Its appearance and history — Sites of the 
Wilderness. 



The natural features of the Valley of the Jordan 
are very remarkable. It is deep sunken, (as by some 
natural convulsion,) to a level very considerably lower 
than that of the Mediterranean Sea; being at the Sea 
of Galilee six hundred and fifty-two feet, and at the 
Dead Sea as much as one thousand three hundred and 
twelve feet below it. This depression is prolonged 
still further, along a great part of that strange desert 
valley which runs from the Southern point of the 
Dead Sea, and meets the Red Sea at its North-Eastern 
limit, the Gulf of Akabah ; and which is thus in fact 



CHAP. II.] JUDiEA. Oi 

nothing but the continuation of the Jordan valley, and 
is called the "Wady el Arabah," or "Valley of the 
Desert." Some indeed are of opinion that, before the 
destruction of the cities of the plain, and the conse- 
quent formation of the Dead Sea in its present shape 
and character, the Jordan flowed the whole way 
along this deep Wady Arabah into the Red Sea at 
Akabah: which, though a matter of much dispute 
among scientific men, has always seemed to me, judging 
by appearances, extremely probable* Now however, the 
immense body of water which the Jordan is constantly 
pouring into the Dead Sea, finds no visible outlet thence, 
and is somehow absorbed therein. It was I remember, a 
question that was put to me when I was examined in 
divinity for my degree at Oxford, "What becomes 
of the vast body of water which the Jordan pours into 
the Dead Sea?" A question which puzzled me then, 
and which has puzzled many a wiser head than mine 
both before and since. There is the phenomenon how- 
ever, of thousands of gallons of water being daily 
poured into a basin which has no visible outlet, and 
yet the basin gets no fuller than before :— a phenome- 
non which one can only account for by conjecturing 
that, either much of it is exhaled and evaporated in the 
mists that are said to rise so thick and frequent from 
the Dead Sea's surface ; or else that some peculiar 
bituminous quality which the water of the Dead Sea 
possesses, does in some way or other dissolve it: the 
latter however, together with a third theory of its 

* Mr. Stanley says that, between the Dead and the Red Seas the 
level of part of the Arabah rises so much as to confute this theory ; 
and that no natural or supernatural convulsion (such as we may 
suppose occurring when Sodom was destroyed) could have so far 
affected its level as to change it from the depth of a former channel 
of the Jordan to what it now is. But surely it is difficult to prescribe 
thus the limits and extent of that convulsion which must have 
affected the greatest part of, (if not the whole Arabah, ) as well as 
the Dead Sea and a part of the Jordan valley besides,— and must 
have raised and lowered the levels to a perfectly unaccountable 
degree. 



58 



EASTERN 



[lect.ii. 



finding some unknown subterranean outlet, seems 
highly improbable. 

Let us however, descend into this Valley of the 
Jordan, which, from the Dead Sea Northwards, the 
Arabs call by the name of "el Ghor," as distinguished 
from the Arabah to the South of it ; and as we ride on 
Eastward, brushing and breaking through the waving 
luxuriance of tangled shrubs which surrounds us on 
every side, we reach first a stream of clear sweet water 
that bears the name of the "Fount of Elisha," from 
the tradition that this is the brook whose waters that 
prophet healed with salt, after his return across the Jor- 
dan from witnessing the translation of his great master, 
Elijah, to Heaven. It is pleasant to believe where we 
safely can: and none would be sceptical enough to 
dispute a tradition so harmless and beautiful as this : 
let the traveller quaff the sweet fresh waters of Elisha's 
fount, not unmindful of that miracle of healing, and 
be grateful accordingly. 

And here, (as hereabouts it is most luxuriant, and 
a little further Westward the blank, yellow wilderness 
begins again,) I may be permitted to mention in 
passing, the peculiarities of the rich vegetation of the 
neighbourhood. Perhaps the most remarkable of the 
shrubs that abound here are some bright-green thorny 
bushes, which bear on their branches clusters of that 
beautiful and tempting fruit known as the "apple of 
Sodom." Their fair exterior however is most treach- 
erous; for they are filled with a juice, (or, when dry, 
with a dust,) so bitter and acrid that it burns the 
mouth like vitriol; and like many another beautiful 
thing, they tempt only to betray ! You will doubtless 
recall Lord Byron's lines, quoted almost ' usque ad 
nauseam/ about the fruit of sorrow being like these 

" Apples on the Dead Sea shore, 
All ashes to the taste." 

There is also another species of apple here, called 
"Lot's Sea Apple," which I imagine to be a distinct 



CHAP. II.] JTJDJEA. 59 

fruit from this apple of Sodom, though the two are 
frequently confounded together. "Bahr Lout/ or, 
"Lot's Sea" is the name which the Arahs have for the 
Dead Sea. 

Having tarried awhile at Elisha's fount, let us now 
push on for the place close at hand where we propose 
to spend the first night of our Juda;an pilgrimage: and 
as the moon rises, pitch our tents by its light, hard by that 
old tower that marks the site of the ancient city ot J ericno. 

Here, but a few miles from the borders of the Dead Sea, 
where now this old rough tower and some dozen or two 
of mud huts stand out alone among the thick brushwood 
that overruns the place, stood once the famous City ot 
Palms, Jericho; the frontier town of Palestine this side 
Jordan towards the East, and the first to arrest the 
progress of the invading hosts of Israel. But no palm 
is to be seen here now; no trace of ancient building or 
foundation; no memorial or ruin of its former greatness! 
Here, where of old Rahab had her home, and dismissed 
in safety, perchance on such a moonlight night as this, 
the spies who came from the hostile tribes beyond the 
river, the rumour of whose dreaded approach had 
brought a secret fear to the hearts of the denizens ot 
that devoted city!— Here, where a few days afterwards, 
as at the terror of the sound of the trumpets and the 
shouts of Israel, the city walls fell down, and by some 
strange convulsion of the earth the entire place was 
laid open, the first prey to the invading and victorious 
tribes !— Many another wondrous scene too m after- 
times, when it had been rebuilt and flourished again, 
this place of Jericho must have witnessed:— but never 
an one so wonderful as that. You would scarcely guess 
that, lying so still and deserted as it does now, it had 
ever been the site of such stirring events. 

It is not however, even now, always so silent and still 
as this. Once every year at about this season, the 
Greek pilgrims, who flock in multitudes to Jerusalem 
for the Holy Week, extend their pilgrimage as far as 



60 



EASTERN 



[LECT. II. 



the river Jordan, which, as I before mentioned, rushes 
along some seven miles distant across this sleeping 
plain at the base of the opposite hills * For a few 

*The scene which, on that occasion, the valley presents, I had not 
myself the privilege of witnessing as I was in Judaea in November : 
but it forms such a striking feature in the historical associations of 
the Jordan valley that I venture to quote to you the graphic account 
of it given by a traveller, Mr. Stanley, whom I myself afterwards 
met in Egypt, and who has lately published a most valuable and 
interesting work on Sinai and Palestine, with which no doubt some 
of you are already familiar. " Once a year," he says, "on the Mon- 
day in Passion Week, the desolation of the plain of Jericho is broken 
by the descent from the Judsean hills of five, six, or eight thousand 
pilgrims, who are now, from all parts of the old Byzantine empire, 
gathered within the walls of Jerusalem. The Turkish Governor is 
with them, and an escort of Turkish soldiers accompanies them to 
protect them against the robbers, who, from the days of the good 
Samaritan downwards, have infested this solitary pass.^ On a bare 
space beside the tangled thickets of the modern Jericho,— distin- 
guished by the square tower now the castle of its chief, and called 
by pilgrims the house of Zaccheus,— the vast encampment is spread 
out, recalling the image of the tents which Israel here first pitched 
by Gilgal. Two hours before dawn, the rude, Eastern kettledrum 
rouses the sleeping multitude.— It is to move onwards to the J ordan, 
so as to accomplish the object before the great heat of the lower 
valley becomes intolerable. Over the intervening Desert, the wide 
crowd advances in almost perfect silence. Above is the bright Paschal 
moon.— before them moves a bright flare of torches,— on each side 
huge watch-fires break the darkness of the night, and act as beacons 
for the successive descents of the road. The sun breaks over the 
Eastern hills, as the head of the cavalcade reaches the brink of the 
Jordan— Then it is for the first time that the European traveller 
sees the sacred river rushing through its thicket of tamarisk, willow, 
and agnus castus, with rapid eddies, and of a turbid yellow colour 
like the Tiber at Rome,— and about as broad,— sixty or eighty feet. 
The chief features of the scene are the white cliffs and green thickets 
on each bank, though at this spot they break away on the Western 
side so as to leave an open space for the descent of the pilgrims.— 
Beautiful as the scene is, it is impossible not to feel a momentary 
disappointment at the conviction that it cannot be the spot either of 
the passage of Joshua or of the baptism of John. The high eastern 
banks, (not to mention other considerations named before,) preclude 
both events. But in a few moments the great body of the pilgrims, 
now distinctly visible in the breaking day, appear on the ridge of the 
last terrace. None, or hardly any are on foot. Horse, mule, ass 
and camel, in promiscuous confusion,— bearing whole families on 
their backs,— a father, mother, and three children, perhaps, on a 
single camel,— occupy the vacant spaces between and above the 
jungle in all directions. 



CHAP. II.] JUDJSA. 61 

hours this strange desert valley then reassumes an 
appearance of life and activity, as though to perpetuate 
the memory of its hyegone greatness and then returns 
once more to its wonted solitude and silence. 

"If the traveller expects a wild burst of enthusiasm, such as that 
of the Greeks when thev caught the first glimpse of the Sea, or the 
German armies at the sight of the Rhine he will be dxsappomted 
Nothing is more remarkable in the whole pilgrimage to the Joidan 
from first to last, than the absence of any such display. Nowhere is 
more clearly seen that deliberative, business-like aspect of their 
devotion, bo well described in Eothen, unrelieved by any expression 
of emotion, unless perhaps a slight tinge of merriment They **, 
mount, and set to work to perform their bathe; most in the open 
space some further up among the thickets ; some plunging in naked, 
Xst hoover with white drelses which they bring with them and 
which having been so used, are kept for their winding-sheets. Most 
of the bathers keep within the shelter of the bank, where the water 
is about four feet in depth, though with a bottom of very deep mud. 
The Coptic pilgrims are curiously distinguished from the rest bj the 
boldness with which they dart into the main current, striking the 
water after their fashion alternately with their two arms, and playing 
with the eddies which hurry them down and across as if they were 
7n the cataracts of their own Nile ;-crashing through the thick 
boughs of the jungle which, on the Eastern bank of the stream, 
intercepts their progress, and then recrossmg the river higher up, 
where they can wadl assisted by long poles which they have cut from 
the opposite thickets. It is remarkable considering the mixed assem- 
blage of men and women in such a scene, that there is so little 
aunearance of levity or indecorum. A primitive domestic character 
S k a singular form the whole transaction The families 
which have come on their single mule or camel now bathe together 
with the utmost gravity : the father receiving from the mother the 
infant, which has been brought to receive one immersion which will 
suffice for the rest of its life, and thus by a curious economy of 
resources, save it from the expense and danger of a future pilgrimage 
in after years. In about two hours the shores are cleared , with the 
same quiet they remount their camels and horses ; and before the 
noonday heat has set in are again encamped on the upper plan of 
Jericho -Once more they may be seen. At dead of night the drum 
agam wakes them for their homeward march. The torches again go 
before; behind follows the vast multitude, mounted, passing m pro- 
found silence over that silent plain,-so silent that but tetto 
tinkling of the drum, its departure would hardly be perceptible. 
The troops stay on the ground 'till the end, to guard the rear, and 
when the last roll of the drum announces that the last soldier is gone, 
the whole plain returns again to its perfect solitude. ' 

Such is the account given by Mr. Stanley of this strange ceremony. 
It may serve to form the not uncongenial subject of our dreams as 
we lie encamped for the night at Jericho. 



EASTERN [LECT. II. 

As the second morning's sun again lights up the 
trans-jordanic hills, the traveller mounts his horse 
again in the fresh morning air, while tents fall, and 
signs of encampment disappear from around him, and 
no trace is left on the spot of its having been even for 
one night the scene of human habitation. It is at such 
a moment that you feel the full charm of the novelty of 
Eastern travel. To feel that you are living, but not in 
a house;— that you are travelling, but not by steam,— 
nor by road, rail, or river ;— to be for once in your life 
beyond the reach of civilization, escaped as it were a 
moment from the world,— extemporising all sorts of 
absent conveniences, and far from all, save men of 
savage race and manners, who never heard of luxury; — 
with your life in your own keeping, and just enough 
possibility of danger to keep you watchful whilst sur- 
rounded by the most interesting scenes in the world! 
All this is the novelty of Eastern travel, — fresh, free, 
and exciting; and possessed of a charm peculiarly its 
own:— and all this will probably pass through your 
mind as you ride forth Eastward from Jericho in the 
morning sun, for the first time in a land where there 
are no roads, — no houses, — no signs of civilization, and 
scarcely even of life ! 

After a ride of about an hour and a half, we reach 
the J ordan, — a narrow, swift, deep, turbid river, shaded 
along its banks by a luxuriant mass of foliage, — willows 
and other shrubs just mentioned. Here, after the 
fashion of the Greek pilgrims, it is of course customary 
to bathe, and to take seven dips according to the 
number prescribed of old by Elisha to Naaman. So 
deep and swift however is the stream, that it is dan- 
gerous for any but a swimmer to venture far into: 
and I remember I found it myself quite impossible to 
"make any head" against the strong current in the 
middle of the river. It is therefore seldom, as you may 
imagine, that a year passes without some catastrophe 
resulting from the pilgrimage of which I have quoted 



CHAP. II.] JTJDiEA. 63 

to you a description. Some unwary and enthusiastic 
pilgrim ventures perhaps into the water but a step 
further than the rest, and is carried off by the treach- 
erous stream which he knows not how to resist, and 
seen and heard of no more. Struggling m vain, (as we 
all do,) against that last involuntary pilgrimage, he is 
swept down by the relentless river like a trophy, and 
consigned, in a few minutes a corpse, to the leaden 
waters of the sea of Death! 

However, bathe there you must.— It is something,— 
the ' most unromantic and matter-of-fact of travellers 
must allow,— it is something to baptise yourself fairly 
for once in your life in the veritable waters ol Jordan 

Notwithstanding the opinion I quoted just now, 1 
cannot but think that there is something m this spot 
which the Greek pilgrims have fixed upon, which 
accords well with the tradition they have attached to it 
of its being the scene of John the Baptist's ministra- 
tions, though not perhaps of the Baptism of our Lord. 
Probably enough, John may have baptised at various 
points or stations, in the river ;— and, if so, at no place 
more probably than at this. The wilderness ol J udsea, 
where he first came preaching, is hard by; (you can 
see it from the spot, looking back Westward, with the 
sides of its bare hills quite "honey-combed" with cells, 
the habitations of hermits during the earlier centuries 
of Christianity;) the scenery around well suits the stern 
life and preaching of John; with the Dead Sea gleaming 
with its warning to sinners in the back-ground,— with 
the desert so near,— with all around so unearthly and 
so strange,— and those cliffs that rise abruptly from the 
Eastern bank of Jordan to echo the stern cry, and 
send afar across the vaUey to terrify the hearts ol the 
multitude who thronged the river-banks, "Eepentye, 
for the Kingdom of Heaven is at hand ! "—In such a 
spot,—" out in the wilderness,"— where the "reeds still 
shake in the wind,"— where the "trees still bring lorth 
their good and evil fruit,"— no wonder that Jerusalem 



64 



EASTERN 



[lect. II. 



and all Judaea, — scribes and soldiers, — Saducees and 
Pharisees, — publicans and sinners, — were stirred to 
penitence by the advent cry of the ascetic herald of 
God's kingdom, — "a prophet? — Yea, I say unto you, 
and more than a prophet!" 

It must needs have been, as Mr. Stanley well 
remarks, somewhere much higher up the river, that the 
Israelites crossed the Jordan, (when its swift stream 
failed for once, and was dried up before the feet of the 
Priests who bore the Ark, 'till all the people were 
passed over,) on account of the precipices that rise 
abruptly on the opposite side. Somewhere among 
those cliffs however, which tower so high above Jor- 
dan's Eastern bank, it was that Elijah was borne away 
from earth in the "chariot of fire," dropping his sacred 
mantle as he went, over the form of his brother-prophet 
Elisha: — and long before him, (as I said before,) 
among those self-same hills, Moses disappeared from 
the sight of men ! 

Time would fail me now to mention in detail any 
more of those interesting associations that crowd upon 
the mind, and seem to clothe the J ordan's banks like 
its rich clusters of foliage. It behoves us now to pass 
onwards, as the day is wearing on ; and having, accord- 
ing to immemorial custom among pilgrims, secured a 
bottle-full of the water of the Sacred River to bring 
home for a relic, we turn our horses' heads Southwards 
towards the shores of the Dead Sea, whose gleaming 
surface is reflecting the bright sunshine in the distance. 
You cannot but be all anxiety to reach its nearest 
shore ; — for over that silent, — sterile, — deep-sunk, — 
lifeless water, there broods a mystery that exhausts 
all wonder, and absorbs all interest ! 

The distance is about five miles. The luxuriant 
vegetation of Jordan and J ericho ceases as you get 
nearer and nearer to the Sea, — and a dry charred soil, 
stretching out for several miles, takes its place. The 
shore itself is composed of a small, black shingle, and 



CHAP. II.] JUDJEA. 65 

is covered in this part with a quantity of black, dead 
branches and hulks of trees, which present a very 
singular and ghastly appearance. They are, probably, 
the wrecks of trees borne down by the annual floods ot 
the Jordan, and blasted, and burned and cast ashore 
by the pestilential waters of the Sea; and left, as it 
were a sign for all men to see who approach those 
ghastly shores,— the scorched skeletons of vegetation,— 
"thrice dead,"— "plucked up by the roots."* 

And now, let us look forward over one of the most 
mysterious phenomena in the world ! There lies that 
blighted water, at times leaden and dull as death itself, 
motionless, and lifeless: or anon, if a breeze stir it in 
the sunshine, it sparkles, and glitters with a hie and 
brilliancy, such as I never saw equalled m any other 
water in the world.— It is capable of the most extensive 
varieties and greatest extremities of change of appear- 
ance of any lake, (I should imagine,) that exists; and it 
iust depends on the weather in which you happen to see 
it, as to how it will appear to you.— Consequently some 
travellers, (the author of "the Crescent and the Cross t 
for example,) have described it as a most "riant, 
cheerful, life-like lake; whilst others speak of it as a 
dead and gloomy embodiment of desolation that bears 
its curse written on its brow!— The truth being that 
both were right in describing it as it appeared to them, 
but wrong in supposing it incapable of utter variety of 
appearance. The fact is I believe, that the salts it 
contains in solution, if stirred, glisten in the sun s rays 
like silver; but, if stagnant, only be-dull the water like 
lead. 

*Quantities of bituminous and sulphureous stones and masses of 
matter are thrown up by the Dead Sea, which are collected by the 
Arabs and sold to the relic vendors at Jerusalem or Bethlehem tor 
manufacture. The popular belief that no bn-d will fly across it is 
of course a mere mvth, but in its waters nothing, whether animal or 
vegetable, can, I believe, live, though I found a dead fish mysetf on 
the shingle of the shore, a wanderer probably from the Sea ot ^aWee, 
who, like many another, found this new atmosphere too hot to noia 
him, and perished in its deadly embrace. 



66 



EASTERN 



[lect. II. 



There is certainly something awfully solemn and 
grand in the view looking Southward from the North 
coast of the Dead Sea. Shut in on the right by the 
sharp, jagged cliffs of the Wilderness of Judsea, and on 
the left by the rounds sloping, but equally barren hills 
of Moab, the lonely lake presents as apt an image of 
desolation and doom personified as one can well con- 
ceive. Looking lengthways, you cannot of course 
nearly see across it, as it is about sixty miles long, and 
its opposite shore much depressed. Its breadth how- 
ever is only about ten miles. A great salt-marsh 
extends from its Southern point; — and there is also a 
mountain of salt hard by. A pillar too is said to be 
there, of the same substance, named, by an absurd 
tradition, Lot's wife.* 

Here then, where this cauldron of sulphureous water 
blights away all life from around it and spreads its 
desolation East, West, and South for miles, — where 
nothing grows and none can live, — was once that rich 
plain, the domain of five kings, whose fertility tempted 
Lot to choose it for his dwelling-place in preference to 
any other spot of earth ! Here was the scene where 
human wickedness reached its climax ! Here was the 
spot whereon the vengeance of God was most fiercely 
poured out! Here, after the lapse of near four thou- 
sand years, is the result, as evident as though it had 
been but ten years ago, — that morning when Lot fled 

*The "Wady Arabah, which I before mentioned as the valley- 
extending from the Southern point of the Dead Sea as far as Akabah 
on the Red Sea, presents the strangest and most blighted aspect of 
any landscape in this world. It is the utmost conceivable exagger- 
ation of the blasted desolation which characterises the Dead Sea's 
Northern coasts ; and the words in which Chateaubriand describes 
the latter are so applicable to the former that I -venture to quote 
them. " The valley," he says, "contained within these two chains 
of mountains, looks, in its soil, like the bottom of a Sea, from which 
the water had for a length of time, receded, made up of long 
reaches of salt, an expanse of dried mud, and shifting beds, furrowed, 
as it were, by the waves. A crust of salt covers the sand of the 
valley, and looks almost like a field of snow." 



CHAP. II.] JUDiEA. b7 

before sunrise out of Sodom, and God hurled down fire 
and brimstone from Heaven, and seared with his wrath 
the scene of that loathsome wickedness; — leaving its 
once beautiful plain a blight and curse on earth, a per- 
petual and abiding testimony to his abhorrence of such 
monstrous iniquity, and its inevitable doom beneath the 
blasting of the wrath of his displeasure!— Here ever 
since, — since the days when history began, — since the 
days whence the nations of the world date their earliest 
origin, — desolation has reigned supreme even until now ! 

It is the wont of travellers to bathe in the Dead Sea, 
as in the Jordan;— but this is a process that requires 
some care, as the water is so dreadfully acrid that, 
should it get into your eye, or any scratch or wound 
there may chance to be on your body, it causes consid- 
erable smarting pain. There is however, no danger of 
drowning here ;— for the old saying, that -"whatever is 
put into the water must either sink or swim,' 5 is not 
true of the Dead Sea, in which you can do neither.— 
The water is so buoyant that you cannot sink; and, if 
you try to swim, you find your legs kicking out high 
and dry above the surface in a provokingly useless and 
unmeaning manner. By dint, however, of patience 
and practice, you may manage to get along in it, and 
make your way to an island about thirty yards from 
shore, which travellers (who do not swim to it) imagine 
must contain some curious traces or ruins of Gomorrah, — 
but which those who do, (as I did,) find, contains 
nothing but very sharp stones and pebbles. — After 
bathing, the extreme saltness of the water covers the 
body with minute saline incrustations, which give an 
unpleasant and sticky sensation to the skin, that remains 
for some hours after, and renders a subsequent bath in 
fresh water desirable. 

Such is the Dead Sea, and the aspect it presents to 
the modern traveller. Time would fail me now to tell 
you of the curious features which others, Robinson, De 
Saulcy, and Lynch, especially, have discovered on other 

F % 



68 



EASTERN 



[lect. II. 



parts of its "wonderful coasts, and the curious conjectures 
they have formed about them. — We must now pass on. — 
And, turning our backs on the Dead Sea, and entering 
again among the hills of the Wilderness of Judsea, with 
our faces in a South- Westerly direction, make the best 
of our way to our proposed resting-place for the night ; 
which is a Greek convent, that lies alone in the very 
heart of the Wilderness, and is the only habitable spot 
within reach. — Again, as the sun descends, we wind in 
among the desert hills, casting long shadows over the 
wild way, where the same angry gloom as before is the 
leading feature of the landscape ; — but the valleys here 
have more the character of ravines.— After some ten 
miles riding through this desolation, we reach, after 
sunset, the convent of St. Saba. 

Perched on the topmost ledge, and, as it were, 
clinging to the almost perpendicular rocks of a huge 
precipice, is a large, rambling, fortified building, whose 
walls run down the steep sides, and overhang the 
chasm below. The long ravine which this overlooks, 
runs unbroken right across the Wilderness of J udsea, 
and bears the waters of the brook Kedron from the 
valley of Jehoshaphat at Jerusalem, to the Dead Sea. — 
Eespecting this ravine, and the waters of Kedron, 
there is a very remarkable prophecy in Ezekiel, 
(ch.xlvii,)*It is called by the Greeks the "Wady Nahr," 
or Valley of Fire, and is believed by them to be, (like 

*This prophecy, (termed, I see, in the headings of our Bibles 
" the vision of holy waters,") is so little known or understood, and 
is so singularly characteristic of the features of this strange landscape, 
that I cannot refrain from fuither mention of it before leaving the 
subject.— From under the Eastern threshold of the House of the 
Lord, (that is to say, of the Temple of Jerusalem on Mount Moriah,) 
the prophet Ezekiel sees in his vision streams of water issuing forth 
into the valley of Jehoshaphat, and pouring down through this gorge 
or bed of the Kedron, this "Wady Nahr," into the Dead Sea. Soon, 
by the abundance of this stream, the whole gorge of the Kedron 
assumes the appearance of a mighty river tjiat waters and fertilises 
this blighted desert.— "And it was a river/' he says, (verse 5,) 
"that I could not pass over: for the waters were risen, waters to 
swim in, a river that could not be passed over. 



CHAP. II.] JTJDiEA. 69 

the Valley of Jehoshaphat, of which it is the continu- 
ation,) the place in which the whole world is destined 
to be gathered for the last great judgment. 

On arriving at this building we summon its occu- 
pants, (who are barred in, as though closely besieged,) 
with shouts and pistol-shots.— Presently, as an answer 
to this uncouth summons, a basket is let down from an 
upper window, and in this we are requested, in modern 
Greek, to deposit our credentials, or claim to admit- 
tance, (in the shape of a letter previously obtained 
from the Greek patriarch at Jerusalem, recommending 
us to their hospitality.) These being cautiously exam- 
ined by the gentlemen at the window, we obtain 
admittance, if we be men : but if there be any ladies 
of our party, their lot is less enviable. — No female foot 
has ever yet, it is said, been permitted to cross the 
threshold of that convent; and female travellers, when- 
ever they go there, are marched off to an ominous- 
looking tower outside the building, where they have 
to clamber up a ladder to an upper chamber therein: 
which when they have reached, the ladder is removed 
entirely, and they are left in safe imprisonment for the 
night. — The ladies being thus disposed of, the remain- 

« < And he said unto me, Son of Man, hast thou seen this? Then 
he brought me and caused me to return to the brink of the river. 

"Now when I had returned, behold at the bank of the river were 
very many trees, on the one side and on the other. 

"Then said he unto me, These waters issue out toward the East 
country, and go down into the desert, and go into the Sea; which 
being brought forth into the Sea," (i.e. the Dead Sea,) "the waters 
shall be healed. 

"And it shall come to pass that everything that hveth, which 
moveth, whithersoever the river shall come, shall live: and there 
shall be a very great multitude of fish, because these waters shaft 
come thither: for they shall be healed: and everything shall live 
whither the river cometh. 

"And it shall come to pass that the fishers shall stand upon it from 
En-gedi even unto En-Eglaim : they shaU be a place to spread forth 
nets ; their fish shaft be according to their kinds, as the fish of the 
great sea, exceeding many. 

"But the miry places thereof, and the marishes thereof, shall not 
be healed ; they shall be given to salt." &c &c. 



70 



EASTERN 



[LECT. II. 



der of the party obtain admittance to the convent, and 
a welcome from the hospitable monks, who provide for 
their supper delicacies after their own heart, in the 
shape of messes of garlic, (not very palatable,) and 
spiced coffee, and leave you to welcome repose in the 
apartment consecrate to visitors. 

As the sun rises next morning over those Moab hills 
again, you probably begin the day by starting forth, 
with a monk for your guide, to be shown over this 
strange building in which you have passed the night. 

In the earlier centuries of Christendom this lifeless 
Wilderness was the home of thousands of hermits 
and anchorites, who subsisted, no man knows how, 
nor can guess, — but somehow, — and dwelt in ^ the 
holes and caves which abound in these rocky ravines, 
in the most unapproachable and precipitous spots.— 
With no social union, the sufferings of these ascetics 
must have been fearful. At length, in about the fifth 
century, a Greek monk, St. Saba, organised in some 
degree this strange, rigorous multitude, and founded 
this Convent for purposes of mutual shelter and 
protection; and here ever since, through various vicis- 
situdes, it has stood. — Often it has been sacked and 
plundered by the savage Bedouins of the surrounding 
wilderness, and its monks all massacred. — They show 
you in one place a heap of four thousand skulls of their 
brethren, slaughtered, they say, of old, at one such 
dreadful incursion of Arabs: and it is as a precaution 
against any repetition of such an outrage, that they are 
now so strongly fortified! 

Within the building there are several chapels, which 
might be handsome, but for the tawdry, bad taste with 
which they are decorated. An immense space and 
rambling range of building is contained within the 
walls. The views from the upper windows and towers 
are strange and grand in the extreme.— Looking East- 
ward and Southward across the Wilderness, towards 
those Moab mountains and the gleaming Sea of Death, 



CHAP. II.] JUDjEA. ' 

you might almost descry, amidst the confused chaos of 
summits, two hills speciaUy famous in story. One, 
Massada, the celebrated inaccessible rock-tortress ot 
Herod, where the revolted Jews of old made almost 
their last and most formidable stand against the Bomans: 
the other, the Fukeidis, or Frank mountain, so called 
from its having been, (or been supposed to be,) the 
last stronghold of the Christian crusaders m the country. 
The Wilderness in its Southern part takes the name of 
Engedi; a name that recalls the memory of David with 
his band of outlaws, taking refuge in these wild hills, 
(so near to Moab whither he afterwards fled, and 
whence Euth his ancestress had come forth of old,) 
and sparing Saul his persecutor, because he was his 
king too. Southward there, He the blanched chits oi 
Usdam or Sodom, and all the solemn mystery of the 
Dead Sea coasts, of which I must now refrain from 
speaking further, but pass on to other happier themes 
and holier associations ! 



12 



CENTRAL 



[lect. II. 



Chapter IIL 
Central and Western Judaea. 



" Daughter of Sion ! Fallen as thou art. 
Far other strains address thy sorrowing heart ! 
Tho' bare thy mountains, and thy vales forlorn 
TJnblest by culture yield the brier and thorn, — 
Yet shall thy wilderness break forth and sing ; 
The myrtle smile, — the graceful cedar spring!" 

Petra, a Prize Poem, 



Bethlehem and its memories — Rachel's pillar — "Just in 
time"— Hebron — Southern Judcea — Traces of dense population 
— Maritime plain — Philistine Pentapolis — -Remaining Judcean 
Towns — General reflections on the Jewish land and people- 
Ancient prophecies remarkably fulfilled — Future prospects of 
J udcea — Conclusion, 



Passing out Westward from the Convent of St. Saba 
we start on our third day's journey, through the 
J udsean Wilderness, which however gradually modifies 
in appearance as we progress ; trees, and even signs of 
cultivation begin to appear at intervals; and just as we 
begin to lose sight of the fearful desolation through 
which we have passed, after a ride of about eight 
miles, just as we turn the corner of an intervening hill, 
the village or town of Bethlehem suddenly appears 
in sight. 

It is situated on the top and sloping side of a steep, 
rocky hill, — and is very picturesque; being in short, 
just such a spot, to look at in the distance, as you would 
desire in fancy the town of David, — the town where 
David's mightier son was born, — to be like. A ram- 
bling, irregular, little place it is, with scarcely a level 



CHAP. III.] JTJDjEA. id 

spot of standing ground; surrounded by fields and 
olive-gardens; — the same fields where of olden time 
Ruth stood and gleaned among the sheaves of her kins- 
man Boaz; the same wherein afterwards her great 
grandson David, yet but a youth ruddy and of a 
fair countenance, was wont to watch his father's sheep, 
and one day wandering far out into the wilderness 
there behind, slew the lion and the bear that crossed 
his path; — the same where, afterwards, other shep- 
herds watched their flocks by night, and heard the 
chorus of the hosts of Heaven proclaim, on that first 
Christmas night that ever blessed this world of ours, 
"Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace, 
goodwill towards men!" — But if those fields ^axe memor- 
able enough, how much more memorable is that town 
itself, where, on a winter's night, a humble outcast 
from the inn and lodged within a stable, Jesus Christ 
was born into the world !— Whither the Magi^ guided 
by their star from the far East, came with their costly 
offerings, clambering up that rocky hill-side, — the first 
of an endless list of votaries at that sacred shrine! 
Then, after Herod's massacre of the innocents we lose 
sight of Bethlehem, for these things only memorable, 
and in this respect alone fulfilling the words of the 
prophet, "Thou Bethlehem in the land of Judah art 
not the least among the princes of Judah, — for out of 
thee shall come a governor that shall rule my people 
Israel!" 

The prominent object in the view of the modern 
town is that great church and convent which marks the 
nativity or birth-place of our Lord. It would be 
useless in our present brief space to attempt to question 
the authenticity of this site, and equally so with any 
degree of certainty to affirm it. The spot in question 
is a subterranean cave or grotto, and the probabilities 
one way or the other are pretty equally balanced. 
Within this cavern are two shrines, (or inner cavities 
in the rock,) lighted by never-dying lamps. — Of these, 



\ 



/4 CENTRAL [LECT. IX. 

one, marked by the figure of a star, (which you may 
remember was a ground of dispute in the beginning of 
our late war with Russia,) is said to be the spot of the 
nativity: the other, that of the manger in which the 
infant Saviour was laid after his birth. — From this 
grotto runs a long, subterranean passage, with several 
other grottoes on each side of it; — whereof one is the 
cave in which Jerome passed many years of his life in 
study and seclusion. Above the whole cavern stands 
the great Basilica built on the spot by the Empress 
Helena, and at the East end of this are the three 

respective chapels of the Roman Catholic, — Greek, 

and Armenian Christians, who have joint possession of 
this, (as of other,) sacred sites. — This spot must ever 
be an interesting one to every thoughtful mind, but it 
will derive its interest from the certainty of verified 
history, and not from the uncertainty of obscure tradition 
and vague conjecture. It will be interesting as the 
place wherein we know for certain that Jerome wrote 
and Helena built, — and whither, in all subsequent ages, 
universal Christendom has flocked to pay its devotions: 
rather than as the spot which an obscure tradition 
points out as the possible place where our Saviour 
might have been born, and accordingly desecrates with 
unappropriate decoration. — I am alluding now of course 
to the actual cave, and not to the town of Bethlehem 
whose identity none would question* 

♦Respecting these grottoes I will briefly repeat the observations of 
an observant traveller, Henry Maundrell, who visited the Holy 
Land more than one hundred and fifty years ago. "I cannot forbear 
to mention in this place," he says, "an observation which is very 
obvious to all who visit the Holy Land, viz., that almost all passages 
and histories related in the gospels, are represented by them who 
undertake to show where everything was done, as having been done 
most of them in grottoes, and that even in such cases where the 
condition and circumstances of the actions themselves seem to require 
places of another nature. Thus if you would see the place where 
St. Anne was delivered of the blessed Yirgin, you are carried to a 
grotto ;— if the place of the Annunciation, it is also a grotto ;— if the 
place where the Virgin Mary saluted Elizabeth,— if that of the 
Baptist's or our Saviour's Nativity,— if that of the Agony,— -or of St. 



CHAP. HI.] JVVMA. 75 

Bethlehem is one of those towns which has had the 
misfortune to become quite a "show place/'— which is 
much the case with all the Holy Places of the booth; 
—whereas in Galilee and the North, the sacred sites 
are, (or were, for I suppose the time is coming when 
the Vandals of the Western World will penetrate even to 
Damascus, and make Hotels in the JudEean Wilderness 
and Watering-places on the Dead Sea,) comparatively 
free from this taint.— It is likewise a great place lor 
the manufacture of olive-wood boxes —heads, and 
chains,— crosses, engraved shells, and all such curious 
mementoes of pilgrimage. 

But as the day wears on, we must needs get back 
as quickly as we may to Jerusalem, whose gates are 
closed punctuaUy at sunset. It is a distance ol barely 
fiye miles across rocky hills and undulating ground. 
You pass as you go the lonely sepulchre that marks the 
spot where, as we read in Genesis, (xxxv, 18,) Kachel, 
the best beloved wife of Jacob, died in giving birth to 
Beniamin, "and was buried in the way to Ephrath, 
which is Bethlehem,— and Jacob set a pillar upon her 
grave : that is the pillar of Rachel's grave unto this 
day!" Big-trees and olive-grounds clothe the road, 
'till we come within sight once more of old Jerusalem. 

I remember on the occasion of my making the tour 
which I have been describing to you this evening, I 
had lingered too long at Bethlehem, and was at some 
distance behind my party. It was getting dark, so 1 
made all the haste I could, but before I reached Jeru- 
salem, the sun had sunk on the horizon, and the city 
gates were closed.— Here was a "fix!"— As however 
Peter's repentance,-or where the Apostles made the Creed,-or that 
of the Transfiguration, all these places are grottoes.-And m a word, 
wherever you go you find almost everything is represented as being 
done underground. Certainly, grottoes were anciently held in great 
esteem, or else they could never have been assigned, in spite ot all 
probability, for the places in which were done so many various 
actions.-Perhaps it was the hermit way of living in grottoes, from 
the fifth century downwards, that has brought them ever since to be 
in so great reputation." — H. Maundrell. Bohn s Edition, pp. 478-9. 



76 



CENTRAL 



[LECT. II. 



a night spent alone on the rocks among robbers outside, 
(for there are no suburbs to the city,) would have been 
anything but a desirable lot, I rode up to the closed 
portal, and knocking at it as loudly as I could with my 
riding- whip , clamoured for admittance. My knowlege 
of Arabic being limited to, (I think,) five words, I 
began rather to fear for my fate. But clamour will 
do everything, and having by persevering knocks and 
shouts brought a guard to the gate inside, I uttered 
two of my five words, which had the magical effect 
ere long of obtaining for me the desired admittance. 
— These were "Ingleez howadji," which signify, 
"English, gentleman, or traveller," and conveyed at 
once to the sentry at the gate the notion that, (as 
Englishmen do everywhere,) I was safe to pay for the 
privilege of admittance. 

It was enough! — and I rejoiced to enter, though 
late, at the closed portal of the Holy City. — But I 
could not help wondering at the curious position of a 
solitary Englishman riding up after nightfall, and 
clamouring for admittance at the close-barred gates of 
old J erusalem itself with a riding-whip ! — I could not 
help I say thinking too, how the day was coming when 
no clamours, — no chink of piastres, — no soft-sounding 
name of gentleman, or traveller, or Englishman, would 
win a passage for the excluded through the portals 
of J erusalem that is to be ! — However, practically for 
myself at the moment the difficulty was solved, — the 
passage was won ! My horse's hoofs echoed through 
the narrow streets of J erusalem, — and I asked myself 
whether these things were an allegory or no ? 

* * # * 

* * * * 

* * * ^ 



CHAP. HI.] JTJDJEA. * * 

Having thus come to an end of our Tour of the 
Eastern, and by far the most interesting portion of 
Judaea, it remains for me now, as briefly as I can, to 
describe its Western and Southern sides ;— and to con- 
clude with a few general remarks, as I proposed at the 
commencement of my Lecture. 

At a distance of about twenty miles South of J eru- 
salem, and fifteen of Bethlehem which is situated on 
the way thither, lies Hebron, the most famous and 
ancient city, (after those I have mentioned,) of any in 
Judaea; and still to this day a large and flourishing 
Town. — The ruins of an old paved road lead you down 
through walled vineyards, and woods of dwarf oaks, 
and other shrubs, along the hills and valleys of this 
Southern region, past two large, ancient, stone-paved 
pools, which tradition, (probably justly,) ascribes to 
Solomon; and so on to the town of Hebron, built 
upon two hills, now the frontier town towards the 
Southern desert, whose borders extend very near upon 
it. The principal object that arrests the attention in 
this beautiful spot is the large Mosque built over the 
Cave of Macphelah, or its supposed site; the place 
which, as you remember, Abraham bought of Ephron 
the Hittite, as a family burying-place, for a certain sum 
in Shekels, which is the earliest pecuniary transaction 
anywhere recorded, and the first mention of money that 
we know of. This spot, the Cave of Macphelah, is now 
totally inaccessible both to Christians and J ews, owing 
to the religious jealousy of the Mahommedans. There 
remain too, in Hebron, those upper and^ lower pools, 
pools to this day, of which we read in the History of 
the Kings of Judah : over one of which, the hands and 
feet of the assassins who murdered Ishbosheth were 
hung up, as related in the sixth chapter of the second 
Book of Samuel. 

There is I think, nothing else at Hebron of any 
consequence, save an ancient oak or terebinth-tree, 
whose beautiful tradition carries us back to the days 



78 



WESTERN 



[lect. II. 



when this plain of Mamre was one wide pasture, inhab- 
ited by Arab shepherds, who fed their flocks, and dwelt 
in tents, and worshipped the hosts of heaven that illu- 
mined the broad sky above them! What time as a 
Chaldaean wanderer, Abraham, first pitched his tent 
amongst them, and told them of another God than the 
bright Snn they daily watched rising out from those 
Moab Hills, and setting in the "Western Sea ! — There, 
as he sat in the shade of that old terebinth, (or such as 
that,) in the heat of the day, three strange, celestial 
visitants stood before him, in the form of men. There, 
he imparted the rites of hospitality to the wayfarers, his 
guests, — and by so doing "entertained angels unawares." 
In after-times, when his posterity came to inherit the 
land where he had been a stranger and a sojourner, 
they found here the city of Arbah, which Caleb, the 
son of J ephunneh, took for a possession, and called it 
Hebron. Here David was first crowned, and here six 
of his sons were born: but from that time forward there 
is little or no mention of it in the Bible. — But to the 
Jews, Hebron is still a sacred spot, and they love to 
congregate around the sepulchre of the great father of 
their race in the Mosque of Macphelah, which they 
may not enter; and hope to lay their bones when dead, 
somewhere alongside of his, in the same quiet valley, 
where Isaac and Ishmael, long centuries ago, buried 
their great forefather ! 

Passing along from Hebron over the Southern hill- 
country of Judaea to the Westward, no other towns of 
any importance will fall in your way. But, all through 
this part of the land, one feature of great importance 
cannot fail to strike the traveller's eye. — Thinly-peopled 
and void of inhabitants as it now is, the vast numbers 
of important heaps of ruins, which you are constantly 
meeting on every side, strongly attest to the fact, that 
once the land must literally have swarmed with cities 
and inhabitants, in such multitudes as go far towards 
verifying the else almost incredible numbers which we 



CHAP. III.] 



JUDJEA. 



79 



read of in the Old Testament as peopling this ancient 
land! On this important point I will quote, in addi- 
tion to my own, the remark of Miss Martineau, a lady 
who certainly would not be suspected, from the tone of 
her works, of being prejudiced in favour of any too 
literal interpretation of Scripture. She says of this part of 
the land, "Nothing that I have seen in other countries 
gives an idea of such a thickly settled territory as this 
part of Palestine must once have been. From the 
frontier of Jerusalem the towns must have been in sight 
of one another, I should think, all the way : and in 
some places many must have been in view at once. 
And such fine-looking places too! No brick, — no 
mud, — no mere piles of rough stones from the hill- 
sides, — but square houses of hewn stone, with flat 
roofs, rising in tiers on the slope of a hill, or crowning 
its summit, or set within an angle of the terraced 
heights." 

Such are the vestiges of greatness that lie scattered 
over this hill-country of Judeea, that is to say, over all 
those undulating highlands which extend all down the 
centre of the land, from the Samaritan frontier on the 
North, to the desert on the South; — sloping down on 
the East to the plain of Jordan and the Dead Sea 
cauldron; — and on the West gently declining into that 
rich and fertile plain-country, that extends without a 
break all along the Western coast of Palestine, from 
the Southern desert to the Promontory of Mount 
Carmel. In this rich Western plain, commanding all 
along the coasts and harbours of the Great Mediterra- 
nean Sea, lay the territory of the Philistines. Along 
its level tracts the formidable array of iron chariots 
and cavalry which that nation possessed, and which 
were of no avail among the rocky and mountainous 
country of the interior, could run at ease and bid 
Israel defiance. And accordingly, we find that, long 
after their entrance into the Land of Promise, the tribes 
of Israel were unable to dislodge the Philistines from 



80 



WESTERN 



[lect. II. 



this rich territory of the plain, though they had long 
ago driven them from the hill-country to the Eastward. 

And so it was that the Philistines, retaining the 
dominion of the sea-coast, and of the most fertile 
portion of the territory, proved so powerful and for- 
midable a foe. The traces of their power still lie 
scattered over that fertile plain, on the ruined sites of 
their magnificent palaces and towns. Here, along 
these rich lowland shores, stretching from the North 
of the plain of Sharon and Joppa, downwards to the 
desert beyond Gaza, lay the Pentapolis, the five famous 
cities of Philistia, Ashdod, and Ekron, and Gaza, 
and Gath, and Askelon. Ashdod, in the cliffs near 
the sea, where they first bore the Ark of God as a spoil 
in Eli's time, to the house of Dagon their fish-god, 
who fell twice shattered before its sacred presence, 'till 
the plague-stricken citizens dared detain it no longer]! 
And Ekron, (Northward and more inland,) whither it 
was next taken, whose inhabitants could no better 
endure its presence, but would fain send it home again 
to the hills of Israel! — And Gath, whence came the 
mighty giant-champion, Goliah, to defy the armies of 
the living God; with what success we know! And 
Askelon on the sea-coast, the port of the Philistine 
plain! — And Gaza, on the borders of the desert, 
whence, in the days of the Judges, Samson had borne 
away the city-gates upon his shoulders, and where, 
ever since, a town has remained, the frontier of the 
cultivated country, and the gate, as it were, of the 
desert! But besides these five, many other " ruinous 
heaps," where once were " fenced cities," stud the 
plain, as well as the hill-country, far up to Joppa, the 
modern port of Judaea, which I have before described 
to you, and with it, the road from the coast back again 
to Jerusalem, which thus will have completed our 
circuit of Judsea. 

I regret that the time will now permit me only to 
conclude with a very few and brief general observa- 



CHAP. III.] 



JTJDJEA. 



81 



tions; (and indeed, had I previously considered the 
magnitude of my subject sufficiently , I should never 
have proposed to compress it within the limits of a 
single lecture ; — thus omitting, as I have now been 
forced to do, many most interesting details from the 
rapid sketches I have given you of the spots we have 
been considering this evening.) For there are scores of 
small villages, bearing names full of interest, all over 
Judaea, such for instance as those which mark the sites 
of Emmatjs, Eamah, Lydda, Arimathea, GlBEAH, 
and such-like, which I have been compelled to pass 
over in silence, but which, being merely conjectural 
sites, are perhaps of slight importance in any other 
respect except for their associations. 

But now to consider this land of Judaea and its 
people. Is it not passing strange, how all the varying 
vicissitudes which, through the history of the world, 
this country and this nation have experienced, have 
almost, one might say, left their impress on the land 
itself? So that the marvel of that strange page of 
history is equalled if not outdone by the present marvel 
of the physical features of the landscape wherein it was 
enacted ! Perchance too, the physical scenery reacted 
in some degree on the history of Judaea, and influenced 
by its savage, supernatural grandeur the minds of its 
inhabitants ! — Our own poet has told us how that 

"There are two voices, one is of the Sea, 
One of the Mountains, — each a mighty voice." * 

And for the Jews of old, both sea and mountains, — 
such a sea and such mountains as are nowhere else to 
be found, — had their voices, — as well as all other of 
those most strange features of their scenery, influencing 
doubtless the national character to a very great extent, 
and shaping and fashioning it to what it was ! — And so 
history and scenery were for a while made to act and 
re-act upon one another. 

* Wordsworth. 

Gr 



82 



WESTERN 



[lect. II. 



I will not now, as I at first intended, (for I have 
already detained yon too long,) attempt to recapitulate 
any portion of that wondrous history of this extraordi- 
nary land, in order to trace out to you its curious 
connection with its physical features. Suffice it to say 
that here was once for centuries the seat and home of 
a great nation, chosen of God for a peculiar people, 
and set in a peculiar land; — fenced off by desert, — 
sea, — wilderness,— and river,— a rock-bound coast on 
one side, and a deep-sunk plain on the other, from all 
the world beside.— Hemmed in on every quarter by 
physical marvels, and mementoes of His power and 
protection, stamped no less on the features of their 
landscape than in the events of their history! But 
neither one or the other, crowded as they were upon 
one small people, and round one small spot of earth, 
were of avail to keep them faithful to Him who had 
done so great things for them. 

For this now deserted land was of old, (as the mani- 
fest traces of its ancient greatness abundantly testify,) 
a goodly and a fruitful land, and a territory most to 
be desired. There were days when a fenced city 
crowned each rocky hill, and men spoke of her towns 
as "the thousands of Judah!"* Then, in the midst of 
all her splendour, she forsook her God: — and the 
prophets' burden-song of woe, as it echoed through 
the streets of her towns and the valleys of her land, 
was deemed in the pride of her power, no better than 
an idle tale !— It sounded a mockery then, but how 
sounds it now, that voice of God, uttered over the 
devoted land, heedless in the plenitude of its great- 
ness? Hark! how they cry to her thousand then 
populous and flourishing cities, "I will make your 
cities waste, and bring your sanctuaries unto deso- 
lation;— and I will bring the land into desolation; 
and your enemies which dwell therein shall be 



* Micah v, 2. 1 Sam. xxiii, 23. 



CHAP. III.] 



JTJD2EA. 



83 



astonished at it. And I will scatter you among the 
heathen, and I will draw out a sword after yon; and 
your land shall be desolate, and your cities waste. 
Then shall the land enjoy her sabbaths,, as long as it 
lieth desolate, and .ye be in your enemies' land; even 
then shall the land rest and enjoy her sabbaths."* — 
"So that the generation to come of your children that 
shall rise up after you, and the stranger that shall come 
from a far land, shall say, when they see the plagues 
of that land, and the sicknesses which the Lord hath 
laid upon it; 6 Wherefore hath the Lord done thus 
unto this land? what meaneth the heat of this great 
anger?' — The anger of the Lord was kindled against 
this land, to bring upon it all the curses that are written 
in this book !"f "And now, inhabitants of Jerusalem, 
and men of Judah, judge, I pray you, betwixt me and 
my vineyard! What could have been done more to 
my vineyard, that I have not done in it? Wherefore, 
when I looked that it should bring forth grapes, 
brought it forth wild grapes? And now go to, I will 
tell you what I will do to my vineyard ; I will take 
away the hedge thereof, and it shall be eaten up: and 
break down the wall thereof, and it shall be trodden 
down. And I will lay it waste: it shall not be pruned, 
nor digged, but there shall come up briers and thorns : 
I will also command the clouds that they rain no 
rain upon it. For the vineyard of the Lord of Hosts is 
the house of Israel, and the men of Judah his pleasant 
plant: and he looked for judgment, but behold oppres- 
sion; for righteousness, but behold a cryP'J Such was 
to be the doom of Judah! Of that rich Philistine 
plain two verses sum up the future fate. — "Askelon 
shall see it," (God's judgment,) "and fear; Gaza also 
shall see it and be very sorrowful, and Ekron, (for her 
expectation shall be ashamed,) and the king shall 
perish from Gaza, and Askelon shall not be inhabited, 



* Lev. xxvi, 31, 33, 34. f Deut. xxix, 23—27. % Isaiah y, 3—7, 

G 2 



84 



EASTERN 



[LECT. II. 



and a bastard shall dwell in Ashdod; and I will cut off 
the pride of the Philistines! 95 * 

Pages upon pages of prophecy I might go on quotings 
equally strikingly fulfilled concerning this devoted land. 
But it were useless to continue further. Over that 
desolate country and its fallen capital, we, like the 
strangers from a far land mentioned in the prophecy, 
have been expending our wonder as we gazed upon its 
doom ! Let us in conclusion, listen to the same voice 
of prophecy yet unfulfilled, and hear, in the glowing 
language of our own poet, the glorious destiny in store 
for this Judaea in the hidden future of God ! — 

"Yet shall she rise, — but not by war restored, 
Not built in murder, planted by the sword, 
Yes ! Salem, thou shalt rise ; thy father's aid 
Shall heal the wounds his chastening hand has made, 
Shall judge the proud oppressor's ruthless sway, 
And burst his bonds, and cast his cords away I 
Then on your tops shall deathless verdure spring, 
Break forth ye mountains, and ye valleys sing ! 
No more your thirsty rocks shall frown forlorn, 
The unbeliever's jest, — the heathen's scorn, 
The sultry sands shall tenfold harvests yield, 
And a new Eden deck the thorny field ! 
E'en now perchance, wide- waving o'er the land 
That mighty angel lifts his golden wand, 
Courts the bright vision of descending power, 
Tells every gate, and measures every tower ; 
And chides the tardy seals that yet detain 
Thy Lion, Judah, from his destined reign ! 
***** 

Lo ! Cherub bands the golden courts prepare ! 
Lo ! Thrones arise, and every saint is there ! 
Earth's utmost bounds confess their awful sway, 
The mountains worship and the isles obey ! 
And shall not Judah's sons exulting come, 
Hail the glad beam, and claim their ancient home ? 

* Zech. ix, 5, 6. 



CHAP. Ill ] JUDJEA. 85 

On David's throne shall David's offspring reign, 
And the dry bones be warm with life again ! 
Hark ! white-robed crowds their deep hosannahs raise, 
And the hoarse flood repeats the sonnd of praise ! 
Ten thousand harps attune the mystic song ! 
Ten thousand thousand saints the strain prolong ! 
"Worthy the Lamb omnipotent to save, 
"Who died, who lives triumphant o'er the grave 
% *^ ^ 

# * * * 

# * * * 

Permit me in conclusion to apologise for haying 
detained you so long, and to express a hope that it 
may not have been in vain, but that of all who have so 
patiently listened to me this evening there may be no 
one who may not, even from these cursory glances at 
the most interesting spots on earth, be enabled to take 
away with him, a clearer, truer, and I trust not less 
pleasant remembrance of the aspect and associations of 
the land of JUD^A.f 

* Heber's Palestine. 

f The future destiny of Judsea and its people is a subject involved 
in deep mystery, and one -very much disputed according to the 
various methods employed for the interpretation of Prophecy. 
"Whether the Jewish people are ever to be restored to their own 
land ? — Whether the signs of such a restoration are even now dis- 
cernible ? — Whether Prophecy points to any such restoration ? — Or 
whether the glory of Judsea is all of the distant Past, and no glorious 
Future is in store for the land and its ancient people? — are all of 
them questions eagerly debated in the present day. I cannot myself 
see on the one hand any reason for doubting that such a restoration 
will eventually take place ; although on the other I can see no signs 
of such a restoration immediately at hand. The mere phsenomenon 
of the Jewish people having existed for now near eighteen centuries 
so intimately intermixed with, yet so marvellously distinct from 
every civilised nation of the world, is of itself strong presumption 
according to the most ordinary reasoning, of some great destiny 
being in store for them. Add to this the extraordinary character of 
their ancient History, and also the probable and most apparent 
meaning of the Old Testament Prophecies, and the evidence in favour 



86 



of that restoration becomes almost irresistible. The no less singular 
aspect of the physical features of the country tallying so remarkably 
now as then, with the past and present destinies of these its ancient 
inhabitants, seems to chime in to complete the chain of evidence, 
and to place the future glorious destiny of Judsea and the Jewish race 
almost beyond a doubt in the mind of every candid believer of 
Scripture or of History. 

******** 

I would avail myself of this opportunity, at the close of this 
Lecture on Judsea, of inserting a few words in explanation of some 
remarks I have let fall in the course of it respecting some of those 
equivocal sites, (as the Cave of the Nativity at Bethlehem for 
example,) which tradition, and tradition alone, has pronounced 
sacred. I feel that many are apt to esteem it sceptical to call 
tradition in question, or to venture to form an independent opinion 
on those subjects. My own experience led me to a different conclu- 
sion. It behoves the Christian traveller who comes to investigate 
and "lionise," as well as the Christian pilgrim who comes to pay his 
devotions to (or rather at) the Holy Places in the East, not to 
confine his attention too closely to the regular "show" places and 
objects, or his belief to only what is told him by others. In many 
cases his own conjectures are likely to be far more probable than 
tradition, and his own researches just as valuable as^ much that 
passes muster. Rather in the former character of Christian traveller 
investigating for himself, (though I trust lacking nothing of the 
respect and veneration due to sacred associations, that should char- 
acterise the Christian pilgrim,) it appears to me that a visit to the 
Holy Land should be conducted by one of our own nation and faith: 
for to question the genuineness of a particular site is surely no pi oof 
of religious scepticism, seeing that the authority on which we 
question it, is the Bible itself: and his faith is neither valuable nor 
enviable who would accept tradition as truth, or unhesitatingly 
believe, (fancying it is duty to do so,) at the bidding of his feelings, 
the legend of some enchanting spot, thus doing violence to reason 
and judgment alike, and refusing to tread with due caution over 
holy ground, where truth and error are so intimately commingled. 



LECTURE III. 



SAMARIA AND GALILEE, 
PAST AND PRESENT. 



\ 



SAMARIA AND GALILEE. 



Lecture III. Chapter I. 

PRELIMINARY GALILEE AND SAMARIA. 



"And of Joseph he said 'Blessed of the Lord be his land, for the 
precious things of heaven ; for the dew, and for the deep that coucheth 
beneath ***** 

"His glory is like the firstling of his bullock, and his horns are like 
the horns of unicorns : with them he shall push the people together 
to the ends of the earth: and they are the ten thousands of Ephiaim, 
and they are the thousands of Manasseh." 

Deut. xxxiii, 13, 17. 



Preliminary — Associations of the name of Galilee — Physical 
geography of Northern Palestine — Plain of Esdraelon — Sama- 
ria and its landscape — Ephraim and Manasseh — Shiloh — 
Shechem — Ebal and Gerizim — Jacob's well — Sect of the 
Samaritans — Sebustieh or Samaria — Its ruins and degradation 
— DJenin — Armageddon. 



As I have already on two previous occasions des- 
cribed to yon the aspect of Modern Judaea and its 
capital Jerusalem, I have selected the country of 
Galilee (including the districts of Samaria and 
Phoenicia) for our consideration this evening, at the 
risk of incurring the charge of sameness of subject, 
not only because I feel confident that the surpassing 
interest attaching to it will more than outbalance any 
such considerations, but also because it affords me an 



90 



PRELIMINARY 



[LECT. III. 



opportunity of continuing and concluding this series 
of lectures by the description of that portion of Palestine 
which I have not yet spoken of, and thus completing 
the subject. 

* * * * 

But why should I apologise for Galilee? That 
sacred name needs surely no apology ! Consecrated 
by a thousand happy, holy reminiscences, it comes 
as it were self-commended to the heart, and falls sweet 
as the tones of music on the ear! Galilee! — What 
images of love, — what visions of purity,— what mira- 
cles of mercy does not that name suggest? How 
familiarly the word seems to shape itself to pleasant 
memories! How suggestive of beautiful recollections! 
We were all of us children (old or young whether 
now we be ) we were all of us children when first that 
name of Galilee with its simple and most sacred story 
fell upon our ears ; and it had then, as still it has, but 
one connection, but one association for us; one calm, 
cloudless halo brooded above it; one inviolable and 
undisturbed blessedness distinguished it from all the 
rest ! And whilst other names in lapse of time some 
reminiscence of sadness or sorrow, of harsh word or 
cruel deed, has tarnished, — this has remained unsul- 
lied, a happy memory fixed on the mind like one 
bright, green spot standing out ever fresh against the 
limits of a wilderness ! — No name that I know of so 
carries one away with the full force of pleasant recol- 
lections, as this of Galilee. — No name with such a 
charm to banish the present and reproduce the past in 
bright and beautiful simplicity ! 

And yet the name is no great one in History, 
Galilee was never, like Jerusalem, the centre of a 
mighty empire. It was never, like Judaea, the home 
of a people famous among the nations of the earth. It 
derives no lustre from the records of its race. It bears 
no honoured name in this world's history. Cut off in 
a great degree, and separated by its natural position 



CHAP. I.] GALILEE. *>1 

from the Midland and Southern portions of the Holy 
Land, it had no share in the earthly renown of either 
of the Southern Provinces, nor ever, like them, gained 
rank as an independent kingdom! And whilst Judaea 
and its race attained an illustrious dignity among the 
nations of the world, and Samaria itself, as the chief 
centre of the kingdom of Israel, achieved no mean 
distinction, Galilee alone remained unknown to fame, 
and could lay claim to no such earthly honour ! And 
this fact may in some degree be accounted for by its 
naturally isolated position. 

It is indeed wonderful, (as I think I have before 
remarked to you,) how greatly a knowledge of the 
physical geography of Palestine explains and elucidates 
all Bible history. The physical features and the national 
character and fortunes act and re-act upon one another. 
Such a remark is doubtless more or less true of every 
country in the world— Thus, for example, the freedom 
of Switzerland, — the serfdom of Russia, — the naval and 
colonial greatness of England, may all in no slight 
degree be referred to the effects which the natural 
features and position of those countries have produced 
in the formation of their respective national fortunes 
and character.— But it is the more true in proportion 
as the natural features of a country and its national 
history are more remarkable. And therefore it is that 
an acquaintance with the extraordinary natural configu- 
ration and position of the Land of Palestine, (as a 
whole,) is the very best clue we can have to its extra- 
ordinary history. And from this general consideration 
of the important effects of its geography upon its 
history I would pass on (before entering into particu- 
lars) to specify very generally the leading features 
which that geography presents. 

First then let us regard its peculiar situation on the 
Globe. If you look at the country of Palestine on a 
map of the world, or of the Eastern hemisphere, you 
cannot fail to remark how very central its position is 



92 



PRELIMINARY. 



[LECT. III. 



on the face of the Earth. It is, as it were, the 
boundary land between the Eastern and the Western 
World. It forms the Western limit of the immense 
continent of Asia, — the cradle of the human race, and 
the mother of the great Empires of Antiquity. It 
forms the Eastern limit of the great Western Sea, — the 
Mediterranean, — on whose shores the renowned nations 
of Europe rose and reigned ! Thus between Asia and 
Europe this land of Palestine stands midway, and 
divides or links the old world and the new ! 

Such being the importance of its position on the 
globe, let us now regard for a moment the general 
character of the country that occupies it. You will 
see by reference to any good physical atlas, that the 
country of Palestine is mainly composed of one long 
mass of hills, stretching from North to South unbroken, 
save by one single interruption, (but that a most im- 
portant one,) from the high range of Lebanon, of which 
they are an off-shoot, down to the desert of Tih and 
the limits of Arabia Petraea. All along its Western 
border this line of rocky hills slopes down into the 
great maritime plain that coasts the Mediterranean 
Sea; whilst on the East they sink down into that 
deeply depressed valley called the Ghor, through 
which the river Jordan runs, from its source at the foot 
of Mount Hermon to its termination in the Dead Sea. 

One broad and fertile plain, — the Plain of Esdra- 
elon — alone interrupts and divides this line of hills, 
forming the one and only opening of communication be- 
tween the Eastern and the Western lowlands, — between 
the Jordan- valley with the Empires of the Eastern World 
beyond, and the Maritime Plain with its great Sea and 
all the mystery, and marvel, and power of the West. 
Situated thus, like a gateway between the two sides of 
the Earth, it is difficult to over-rate its importance and 
its interest. The plain of Esdraelon is the most histor- 
ical spot, as well as the most marked feature in Palestine. 
It is indeed curious that, being what it was to the 



CHAP. I.] 



GALILEE. 



93 



inhabitants of the country, it is so seldom mentioned 
by name in Scripture. We may trace however, through 
the long course of Scripture history, how important a 
position it was, from the great battles fought and the 
great scenes enacted there! On that great plain the 
Egyptians and the Assyrians, the representative powers 
of the Eastern and the Western World, found a passage 
the one to the other in their various conflicts for 
supremacy. — On that great plain the Israelites fought 
many battles, (as I will tell hereafter,) with various 
success: — and in after-ages the Crusaders, — Napoleon, 
— and Ibrahim Pacha. On that great plain, — the Plain 
of Megiddo, or Armageddon, (the same as Esdraelon 
though the name is different,) the great final battle of 
the world is figured forth in prophecy as destined to be 
fought, — that last great conflict between the powers of 
good and evil spoken of in Revelations xvi, in which 
the kings of the earth are represented as gathered 
together against the Lord God at Armageddon, and he 
prevailing over them: — but more of this presently. 

Now this plain of Armageddon or Esdraelon, divides, 
(speaking roughly,) the province of Samaria from that 
of Galilee. It forms a marked and important barrier 
between the hills of Galilee which rise to the North, 
and those of Samaria which rise to the South of it. 
And offering, as it did, the only inlet for the enemies 
of Israel on either side, — the Philistines on the West, — 
the Midianites, Kenites, or others on the East, — (who 
maintained their footing on the lowlands round, long 
after Israel had dispossessed them of the hills,) as well 
as the only passage for foreign nations either Eastward 
or Westward, it is manifest that this one broad plain 
must have greatly tended to disunite those tribes whose 
inheritance had fallen to the North of it, from their 
brethren in the South. And in after-times, when the 
whole country fell under the Roman power and was 
divided afresh, it may easily be seen how Galilee thus 
isolated in position, and cut off from Judaea and 



94 



SAMARIA. 



[LECT. III. 



Samaria, came to be regarded as a distinct and 
separate province. 

Time would fail me now to prolong any farther these 
introductory remarks. The ground we have got to 
traverse this evening is so greats (not in extent indeed, 
but) in historical and religious interest, that we cannot 
afford to lose more time in a general contemplation 
of it. 

* # # * 

Let us proceed then as though travelling Northwards 
from Jerusalem, towards Galilee. And first, as St. John 
tells us of our Lord, when He made, (as He often did,) 
the same journey, we "must needs pass through Sama- 
ria." — For Samaria, (as I need scarcely remind you,) 
lies immediately North of Judaea, and comprises almost 
exactly the territory formerly occupied by the tribes of 
Ephraim and the Western half of Manasseh. It is 
in fact the tract of hill country in which the mountainous 
ridge of Palestine is continued from Judaea as far as 
the plain of Esdraelon which breaks it: to be continued 
again in the hills of Galilee up to its parent stem amid 
the snow-capped summits of Lebanon and Hermon. 
And being such, there would be little enough, you 
might think, to distinguish the general aspect and 
character of the landscape of Samaria from that of 
Judaea. It is made up, indeed, of one continuous mass 
of hills; but if any difference is remarkable it is that 
the hills are less rugged, the valleys broader and more 
frequent, and the soil far more productive. Gradually, 
as you ride Northwards, passing from Benjamin into 
Ephraim, from Judaea into Samaria, the barren, rocky, 
blighted aspect of Judaea is superseded by a more 
fertile and cheerful landscape. Vine-covered hills you 
begin to see, and valleys rich with foliage, or waving 
with corn. The oak, the olive, the fig, the cactus, and 
(here and there) the palm, orange, lemon, pome- 
granite, and almond trees flourish, with other verdure, 
on the sloping surface that rises or falls on every side 



CHAP. I.] PAST AND PRESENT. 95 

around you: and you are reminded of the words of the 
old patriarch's death-bed prophecy, and the blessing 
he dealt out to his greatest and noblest son; "Joseph 
is a fruitful bough, even a fruitful bough by a well,— 
whose branches run over the wall." "The blessings 
of thy father have prevailed above the blessings of my 
progenitors, unto the utmost bounds of the everlasting 
hills; they shall be on the head of Joseph, and on the 
crown of the head of him that was separate from his 
brethren!"* 

It is a two-days' journey, a distance of some forty 
miles, across this district or kingdom of Samaria, the 
heritage of the two sons of Joseph. And it is rather 
in the latter than in the former character that its chief 
interest lies. For it was at the time of the first 
conquest of Canaan by the Israelites, .and during the 
period of the Judges immediately following, that this, 
the central district of the land, maintained for awhile 
a sort of supremacy, and Ephraim in those days took 
the lead in Israel ; being at once the tribe most central 
in position, and one of the most extensive and fertile 
in point of territory. Perhaps too^ the influence of 
Joseph's greatness still lingered sufficiently to exalt his 
descendants. However this may be, it is certainly 
remarkable to trace in the early history of the nation, 
how large a proportion of the heroes and great men of 
Israel came from or dwelt in this tribe or territory of 
Ephraim. Thus their first prince Joshua was an 
Ephraimite; Gideon belonged to the neighbouring 
brother-tribe of Manasseh; Tola judged Israel in 
Mount Ephraim; in Mount Ephraim Deborah the 
prophetess dwelt; and Samuel, priest, prophet, and 
judge of the land, was by birth a native of Ephraim 
too, and judged Israel from Ramah just on its confines. 

Thus for a long while after their settlement, Ephraim 
maintained the supremacy in Israel. And the first 



* Gen. xlix, 22, 26. 



96 



SAMAKJA, 



[LECT. Ill* 



place we come to as we ride Northwards, will remind 
us of one of the principal causes of this. It is a small, 
deserted, Arab village, a mere heaping up of rough 
stones in a spot singularly bereft of natural beauty or 
interest, bearing now the name of Seilun. But though 
nothing remains to identify the spot, antiquarian 
research has reduced it almost to a certainty that this 
is none other than Shiloh, the ancient Sanctuary of 
Israel, and the first resting-place of the ark of God! 
Herein then lay the secret of Ephraim's supremacy. 
So long as the ark remained within her borders, no 
other tribe arose above her head. But the time came 
at last when, for some evil deed of theirs, "God forsook 
the tabernacle of Silo, — even the tent that he had 
pitched among men!" "He refused the tabernacle of 
Joseph, and chose not the tribe of Ephraim, but chose 
the tribe of Judah, even the hill of Sion which he 
loved!"* — And thenceforward, from the time when the 
ark and sanctuary of God were removed from her 
borders, Ephraim lost her supremacy, which went, as 
it were, with the possession of that ark and sanctuary 
to Benjamin first and lastly to Judah! 

The close of the first day's journey brings us to 
what is undoubtedly the most interesting spot in 
Samaria; a town now called Nablotjs, but* of old 
Shechem or Sychah. Nor is its beauty unworthy of 
its interest. It lies nestled in a perfect forest of ver- 
dure, in a valley formed by the two mountains of Ebal 
and Geejzim, which rise grandly on either side of it; 
whilst beneath it to the South a rich plain is extended, 
enclosed like a basin among the hills of Ephraim. The 
beauty and fertility of the spot perhaps, in some degree 
account for its importance. On those two mountains, 
Ebal and Gerizim, the tribes of Israel stood when first 
they possessed the land, and pronounced the sentences 
of curse and of blessing ! — On that rich plain beneath 



* Psalm Ixxviii, 60, 67, 68. 



CHAP. I.] 



PAST AND PRESENT. 



97 



them lay the parcel of ground which, centuries before, 
their forefather Jacob had purchased of the sons of 
Emmor, the father of Sychem, who probably founded 
and gave his name to the city hard by; — wherein 
shortly afterwards, Jacob's two vindictive sons, Simeon 
and Levi* perpetrated that deed of cruelty that drew 
down a curse on their posterity, and "scattered them 
in Israel!" That ancient "parcel of ground" is still 
marked by the existence of a well, which modern 
research has determined can be none other than the 
well that Jacob digged there. 

But not even that time-honoured memory gives its 
chief interest to that ancient well.f A greater than 
Jacob paused in after-times to rest his _ weary limbs 
by Jacob's well!— A woman of Samaria, — a native 
perhaps of the suburbs of Sychar, — came to draw 
water, and she found Him there ! And He conversed 
with her, and told her strange things, — told her of a 
living water, better than the water of that well; — told 
her of a living worship, higher than that local worship 
of the Samaritans on Mount Gerizim hard at hand, 
or even than that of the Jews ; — told her that the time 
was coming when neither on this mountain, nor yet at 
Jerusalem, should men worship the Father; — told her, 
( she knew not how,) her own unseemly history, and 
"all things that ever she did!" — "Was not," she 
argued, "was not this the Christ?" 

There, as He sat on the well-side, and gazed across 
that rich plain waving with corn, He bade His disciples 
"lift up their eyes and look upon the fields that were 
white already to harvest," a spiritual harvest, whereof 
they should be the reapers!— And then He rose up, and 
passed on to the town beyond, and, (notwithstanding 
the feud between Jew and Samaritan,) abode there 
two days; thereby vindicating the truth He had just 
pronounced that all such distinctions of race or of 
worship were done away in Him! 

*Gen. xxxiii, 19. xxxiv, 30. xlix, 7. fJolmiv. 
H 



98 



SAMARIA, 



[LECT. III. 



By probably the same road we may pass on, to this 
day, to the same beautiful town of Sychar, which con- 
tains one most remarkable remnant of antiquity, not 
unconnected with our Saviour's visit there. For there, 
and there alone in all the land, a sect exists and has 
existed since that time, who maintain the self-same 
worship of the Samaritans, of which our Lord spoke to 
the woman that day as He sat by the well-side more 
than eighteen centuries ago ! A mere handful of men 
now, they still adhere to the belief and the rites of their 
fathers; — still on this mountain, — their sacred mountain 
of Gerizim,— they perform their worship and their 
sacrifices; — still they hold aloof from other religions, 
jealously retaining their ancient worship, — their own 
priests, — their own synagogue, — and their own revered 
copy of the Law, a parchment of immense age which 
they declare to be three thousand five hundred years 
old. However this may be, of the extreme antiquity 
of this sect itself there can be no question; and the 
phenomenon of a worship so purely local in character 
as this is, maintaining its hold through so many 
centuries of change upon the minds of men is one 
scarcely to be equalled in history! 

At a distance of about five miles North of Shechem 
we come upon another spot, of far less interest indeed, 
but of scarcely less historical importance. On the sum- 
mit of a hill that rises out of a valley itself surrounded 
by a circle of hills, — a fine site for a city, — the wretched 
village called Sebustieh is built, (if mud can be said 
to be built,) in the midst of the ruins of the city which 
gave its name to the whole district, — Samaria. — This 
carries us back in memory to quite a different period of 
history from that of which Shechem reminds us : the 
period when, at the revolt of the ten tribes, Israel and 
Judah became two separate kingdoms. The capital- 
city of the kingdom of Israel was at first, Shechem. 
Samaria was not founded till the reign of Omri, the 
sixth king of Israel, who bought the hill of one Shemer, 



CHAP. I.] PAST AND PRESENT. 99 

and called the city he built there after him Samaria, (as 
related in 1 Kings, xvi, 24.) — Ahab, Omri's son, and 
several of his descendants, seem to have made Jezreel, 
a city on the great plain of Jezreel, or Esdraelon, (for 
the names are the same,) their capital city. # Gradually 
however Samaria, probably from the superiority of its 
position, outstripped the others in importance, and 
became the recognised capital of the kingdom of Israel. 

It was afterwards much enlarged by Herod the Great, 
who also changed its name to Sebaste, in honour of his 
patron Augustus Csesar; whence the present name of 
the modern village, Sebustieh. The columns of Herod's 
palace still standing in rows upon the hill-side, and the 
ruined walls of a Christian Church of St. J ohn the Baptist, 
are the principal remains still standing of the old city. 
Nothing however can exceed the squalor and meanness 
of the village that now occupies this magnificent site! 
I remember it specially from the fact that the carcase 
of a horse, in a pestilential stage of decay, lay in the 
middle of the village street when I passed through it, 
and must have lain there for weeks, close against the 
doors and windows of these Samaritan hovels, without 
ever an one of their inhabitants taking the trouble to 
remove it! It was a feature curiously characteristic of 
the state to which the once magnificent capital of the 
kingdom of Israel has fallen ; and of the fate that has, 
as it were, paralysed the energies of its inhabitants.— 
The drunkards of Ephraim and Samaria, whom the 
old prophets of Israel used to denounce, had reduced 
their posterity to this drunkard's doom! 

Such is Samaria. — And now as we pass on North- 
wards, glimpses begin to appear in the opening of the 
hills, of that immense Plain that bounds it to the North, 
— stretching across the country like a sea that washes 
with its level surface the bases of the everlasting hills, — 
the hills of Galilee to the North, — and of Samaria to 
the South. And as evening closes in, we arrive at the 
modern Turkish town of Djenin, which stands on the 

h2 



100 SAMARIA. [LECT. III. 

Southern limit of that mighty Plain, — the Plain of 
Jezreel or Esdraelon, — Megiddo or Armageddon, 
* — the battle-field of the world ! Here then let us pause 
to identify the localities, and recall a few of the many 
historical associations which this vast arena presents. 



Chapter II. 

INLAND GALILEE. 



*' I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus, 
The cries of agony, the endless groan, 
Which through the ages that have gone before us 
In long reverberations reach our own. 

***** 

Down the dark future, through long generations, 
The echoing sounds grow fainter, and then cease; 

And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations, 

I hear once more the voice of Christ say, * Peace !' " 

Longfellow, 



The Plain of Esdraelon — Its geography — Its history — Its 
four great battles — Barak's victory — Gideon's victory — SauVs 
defeat — Elijah — Jehu — JosiaKs defeat — Nazareth — Its memo- 
ries and traditions — Its neighbourhood — Cana of Galilee — 
Nain — Mount of the Beatitudes. 



The Plain of Esdraelon was the valuable, but dan- 
gerous inheritance of the tribe of Issachar; — valuable, 
for the extreme richness of its soil, and the streams that 
water it, render it even to this day a marvel of fertility; 
— but dangerous, not only as offering a tempting prize, 
but also as presenting, by its level depression, the only 
inlet for the incursions of hostile nations, and the only 



CHAP. II.] 



GALILEE. 



101 



easy passage across the else mountainous barrier of 
Palestine. In consequence of this peculiar position, 
the tribe of Issachar soon compromised their indepen- 
dence for the quiet possession of their fertile plain; and 
thus in a remarkable manner the words of J acob were 
fulfilled, "Issachar is a strong ass, couching down 
between two burdens ; and he saw that rest was good, 
and the land that it was pleasant; and he bowed his 
shoulder to bear, and became a servant unto tribute ! 5 ' 

Looking Northwards then, ( as we may suppose our- 
selves,) across this rich, level territory of Issachar, 
towards the hills of Zebulon, — the hills of Galilee, — 
that rise beyond it, one prominent feature that arrests 
the attention is a wooded hill shaped like a dome, that 
stands out distinctly from among them ; this is Mount 
Tabor. Just hidden by the hills a little to the East of 
this, lies Christian Nazareth, the home of our Lord. 
Bounding the plain to the East, ( but out of sight,) is 
the long promontory of Mount Carmel, — under 
whose shadow, running from the heart of the Plain, 
"that ancient river, the river Kishon," pursues its 
course, and falls into the sea at the bay of Acre, of 
which the headland of Carmel forms the Southern 
point. Whilst to the East of the Plain, not interrupting 
the passage to the Jordan-valley, rises the ridge of 
Gilboa, and another called Little Hereon* 
Dotted over the Plain, in various positions, are villages 
that still retain sufficient similarity of name to be iden- 
tified as the last remnants of the world-famous towns 

* This name of little Hermon attached to the range of hill North 
of Gilboa is, I believe, a purely modern invention, and rests on no 
good authority whatever, It was given to it by early travellers for 
want of a better, and also, perhaps, from its proximity to Mount 
Tabor, inasmuch as the Psalmist chances to mention Tabor and 
Hermon as rejoicing together. Another passage in the Psalms how- 
ever, would seem to imply that lesser Hermon is visible from or rises 
out of the Jordan-valley. — 4 'Therefore will I remember thee concern- 
ing the land of Jordan and the little hill of Hermon/ ' Although 
upon all these expressions of the Psalmist it is impossible to found 
anything but very Tague conjectures. 



102 



INLAND 



[LECT. III. 



of Scripture. Thus Nain, and Endor, on the slopes 
of lesser liermon, are names not unfamiliar to us ; so 
also, almost unaltered in the modern Arabic, we find 
here the names of Taanach, Engannim, and Me- 
giddo, whence the Plain derives its title of Armaged- 
don, and Jezheel, when it takes its other name of 
Esdraelon and on its Eastern extremity, sloping to 
the Jordan, we recognise in the village of Beisan the 
the name of Bethshan. 

Such is the geography of the Plain. We now come 
to consider its historical* associations. It is famous 
principally, (I said just now,) as the battle-field of 
Palestine. In the Old Testament History we may 
trace four great battles, — perhaps the four greatest 
battles of Israel, — which were contested there; the 
first two, victories, — the last two, defeats. The first 
we might call, by way of distinction, the Battle of the 
Kishon, — that famous conflict between Sisera the 
general of Jabin king of Hazor, on the one side, and 
Deborah and Barak on the other, celebrated in the 
fifth chapter of the Book of Judges. As usual, the 
foes of Israel had entered the country from the East 
by the opening of the plain, and lay encamped beside 
the banks of the river Kishon. As usual, the forces 
of Israel held their position in the hill-country, and 
were now gathered for a final attack upon their 
enemies, upon the top of Mount Tabor. What tribes 
were present, and what were absent on that occasion, 
we learn by the Song of Deborah: and reference to 
the Map will show us why this was, and that those who 
were not there, were those who from their distance 
from the scene of action had not been affected by 
Jabin's incursion. At a given signal, the army of 
Israel rushed down from the slopes of Tabor, and 

* I think it right to state here that for this account of the historical 
associations of the Plain of Esdraelon I am entirely indebted to the 
admirable chapter on the subject given in Mr. Stanley's "Sinai and 
Palestine.' ' 



CHAP. II.] 



GALILEE. 



103 



assailed the hostile camp ; and favoured by some con- 
juncture of weather from Heaven, (Josephus says a 
storm, of rain and sleet, the Bible terms it figuratively 
"The stars in their courses fought against Sisera, 55 ) 
utterly defeated and drove out their oppressors. 
Jabin's chariots of iron were of no avail, — for God was 
against them. — "The river of Kishon swept them 
them away, that ancient river, the river Kishon;" — 
Sisera alone escaped on foot, to be foully murdered 
in a Kenite woman's tent; — and Israel was free! 

They were not, however, destined to enjoy for long 
the liberty that victory had brought them. Israel 
relapsed into idolatry; and we soon read of a second 
incursion of their enemies from the East. The Midian- 
ites came up with the Amalekites and all the children 
of the East, and, just like the modern Bedouins of the 
present day, lay encamped with their camels and their 
hosts all over that rich plain "like grasshoppers for 
multitude, 55 and plundered and oppressed the people 
of Israel. And God raised up Gideon this time to 
deliver Israel, first from the worship of Baal where- 
with they had corrupted themselves, and then from 
their oppressors. You remember the singular course 
he pursued in order to reduce his army and select the 
three hundred bravest men for his purpose. How, 
when they came thirsty to a stream of water, some 
drank from their hands, and others lapped; and how 
the former were selected and the latter rejected. Nor 
was the manoeuvre less singular which he employed to 
assail the foe. How, in the dead of night when all lay 
sleeping, he surrounded with his men, (each man pro- 
vided with a pitcher, a trumpet, and a light,) that 
Bedouin host. How, at a given signal, by a sudden 
and simultaneous crashing of pitchers and trumpets 
and flashing of lights in the ears and faces of the 
sleepers, he succeeded by God 5 s aid in creating such a 
panic in the hostile camp, that thousands fled in con- 
fusion before that gallant three hundred as before an 



104 



INLAND 



[LECT. III. 



host! "The sword of the Lord and of Gideon!" 
Down through the opening to the J ordan-valiey they 
fled towards their own Eastern land, and Gideon pur- 
sued them. Two of their princes, Oreb and Zeb, he 
overtook and slew at the fords of the river. Two 
other, Zebah and Zalmunnah, he pursued across J or- 
dan, far into their own land, and slaughtered them 
with his own hand at or near Penuel* 

These two great victories of Israel are celebrated by 
David, as you will remember, in the eighty-third 
Psalm. Doubtless the sight of the plain of Esdraelon, 
where they were both won, recalled them to his mind 
at some moment when another similar incursion was 
impending from the East; and as he thought of these 
things he prayed to God against those Bedouin foes, 
"Do thou to them as unto the Madianites, unto Sisera 
and unto Jabin at the brook of Kison ; who perished 
at Endor, and became as the dung of the earth. Make 
them and their princes like Oreb and Zeb, yea make all 
their princes like as Zeba and Salmana, which say "let 
us take to ourselves the houses of God in possession!" 

The next battle fought on the plain of Esdraelon 
was that fatal fight on Mount Gilboa, which resulted 
in the defeat of Israel, and the slaughter of Saul and 
of Jonathan his son. The Philistines this time, 
Western not an Eastern foe, were encamped against 
Israel on the lowlands of Esdraelon, and Saul's army 
had the advantage of a position on the higher ground 
and was drawn up on the slopes of Gilboa. The night 
before the battle, the trembling, guilty king stole 
across from his own camp to the neighbouring ridge of 
little Hermon, to consult a witch in that very place 
Endor where, years before, (as the Psalmist tells us,) 
the host of Jabin had fallen before Barak. There he 
learnt his fate. And the next day in his high places, — 
in his own mountain strongholds , — Israel was defeated: 
and the victorious Philistines bore away the bodies of 
* Judges vi, vii, viii. 



CHAP. II. 



GALILEE. 



105 



Saul and Jonathan his son, and hung them over the 
gates of their own neighbouring town of Bethshan. 

From that ignominious exposure we read that the 
men of Jabesh-gilead afterwards delivered them. 
They came by night, and took down those royal 
corpses, and decently buried them. — But why the men 
of Jabesh-gilead? — This we learn partly from the pre- 
vious History, and partly from the Geography of the 
country. From History* we learn that a peculiar 
circumstance had laid the men of J abesh-gilead under 
a great obligation to Saul. Some years before, (ere 
Saul had been made King,) Nahash, an Ammonite foe, 
had invested Jabesh-gilead, and threatened to put out 
the right eye of every one of its inhabitants: and Saul, 
directly he heard this, had gathered the forces of 
Israel together, and come down and delivered the 
Jabesh-gileadites, and routed and slain Nahash and 
the Ammonites. — From Geography we learn the rest. 
Jabesh-gilead was situated you will see by the Map, 
on the Eastern slopes of the Jordan- valley, and Beth- 
shan, as I before said, on the opening of the plain of 
Esdraelon as it slopes down to Jordan's Western bank. 
— Jabesh-gilead and Bethshan were therefore "over 
against" one another, — perhaps in sight of each other. 
— And what so natural for the men of J abesh, when 
they thus almost saw the corpses of Saul their former 
benefactor and' deliverer, and of Jonathan his son, 
hanging exposed to insult in the Philistine town of 
Bethshan opposite, as to go by night and remove and 
bury them, and thus acquit the debt of gratitude which 
they owed to his memory? 

Such was the third great battle fought upon the 
plain of Esdraelon, and its sequel. — Before I come to 
speak of the fourth, of which indeed there is little to 
be said, I would briefly advert to two celebrated his- 
torical scenes which, during the interval of time that 
elapsed between them, were enacted on this fertile plain. 
* 1 Sam. xi. 



106 



INLAND 



[LECT. III. 



The first of these occurred on the slopes of 
Mount Carmel, whose long ridge, as I before said, 
overlooks the Plain on the West. It was in the reign 
of Ahab, — in the third year of a dreadful drought, and 
drought in that land is famine, — when, at the sum- 
mons of Elijah the Prophet of Jehovah, the starving 
multitudes of Israel were gathered together there; 
and there, ready to confront him, were Baal's priests 
four hundred and fifty, and the prophets of the grove 
four hundred! Such a curious gathering as that, the 
world has never perhaps witnessed either before or 
since: — nor for such an object. — For there and then, 
by a strange ordeal, they were to test by visible sign, 
whether Baal or Jehovah were the deity whom Israel 
should worship. On two altars, ready prepared for 
sacrifice, each was to imprecate, in the name of his 
own divinity, the acceptance of Heaven, "and the 
God that answereth by fire let him be God!" The 
sequel of that familiar tale I need scarce recount. 
How Baal's prophets called in vain for that flame from 
Heaven which Jehovah granted to Elijah's prayer. — 
How, there and then, the people were convinced, — 
renounced the worship of Baal and destroyed his 
priests. — And how the cry of the multitude round 
Elijah's burning altar came echoing from the mountain- 
side over that vast Plain, "The Lord, he is the God! 
The Lord, he is the God!" 

The second scene, which occurred soon after, carries 
us again rather to the Eastern side of the Plain, — to 
the city of Jezreel, where, at that time, Ahaziah king 
of Judah, was the guest of Jehoram king of Israel, and 
of his mother Jezebel. The watchman as he gazes 
from the tower of Jezreel descries a company of men 
coming up from the East across the plain. Two mes- 
sengers are sent out one after another to meet them, 
but neither one nor the other return. As that com- 
pany approaches nearer and nearer, the watchman's 
sight can distinguish more;— "the driving is like the 



CHAP. II. 



GALILEE. 



107 



driving of Jehu the son of Nimshi, for he driveth 
furiously!" — Then the two kings go forth to meet 
Jehu, who comes as a foe and an usurper. J ehoram 
first is slain, and then Ahaziah. As Jehu drives in 
victorious into the streets of Jezreel, a well-known, 
wicked face, — the face of Jezebel, — appears from a 
window and greets him tauntingly: — he bids her ser- 
vants fling their mistress forth, — and her body falls 
out, strangely enough, into that very plot of ground, 
the vineyard of Naboth, which a few years back she 
had committed murder to obtain. There it is left to 
be the food of the dogs which, then, as now, crowd 
the cities of the East. Afterwards, when they send 
out to look for the royal corpse and bury it, nothing is 
found but the skull and the palms of the hands:— the 
dogs of Jezreel had devoured the rest! 

The last great incident in the Old Testament History 
of which this plain of Esdraelon was the scene, is the 
fourth of those battles which I before mentioned as 
being fought here. Pharoah-necho, king _ of Egypt, 
was passing across the land with an expedition towards 
the Euphrates against the king of Assyria* Josiah 
the king of Judah chose to endeavour to intercept his 
passage, and in spite of fair warning went out against 
him. They met at Megiddo, and there Josiah was 
defeated and slain. His body was taken back to Jeru- 
salem, and buried in the sepulchre of his fathers, and 
his unworthy son Jehoahaz succeeded to his throne. 

Such are the principal ancient reminiscences of the 
Plain of Esdraelon. Time would fail me now to 
record to you the various conflicts of which in more 
modern History it has been the arena: famous fights 
for the possession of the land, between Roman and 
J ew ^ — between Crusader and Saracen, — between Arab 

* In this expedition and this battle we recognise one of the many 
instances in which the Plain of Esdraelon was made a passage- 
ground between the rival empires of the Eastern and the Western 
World. 



108 



INLAND 



[LECT. III. 



and Turk, — between Frank and Mussulman. Here, 
on this mighty level, the East and the West have met 
and striven for the mastery throughout the history of 
the world!* 

But now we must pass on across it. A short day's 
ride will bring us to the opposite hills ; and, winding 
in for little more than a mile amongst them, we come 
upon a small town beautifully situated on the slope of 
a hill. This is Nazareth, the home of our Saviour's 
life. 

Here, retired from the great world, in this secluded 
and unnoticed spot, the childhood, the youth, and 
much of the manhood of our Lord J esus Christ were 
passed. Here, shut in among the hills, but with every 
variety of natural scenery around Him, — with the 

* The Plain of Esdraelon continues to this day perhaps the most 
insecure and lawless district in all Palestine. Armed parties of 
Bedouins from the Eastern side of Jordan, or of robbers and cut- 
throats from any other quarter, traverse that rich district in search 
of plunder and prey ; and bandits and savages of every grade roam 
to and fro across it, ready to rob and murder any party they may 
meet less numerous or not so well-armed as themselves. They are 
desperate cowards however, as well as ferocious savages, and will 
murder a boy or a woman for the mere love of murder and robbery, 
though nothing is to be gained thereby. And it is the worst plan in 
the world to go travelling about with nothing of value on you, 
trusting that you will not be worth robbing. If you have nothing to 
be robbed of, they will torture and murder you for the mere fun of 
torturing and murdering! There was a shocking account in the 
"Convent Book" at Nazareth, (that is to say a book wherein travel- 
lers write their names and their remarks,) of some Englishman who 
travelled on this principle, alone, unarmed, and with nothing of any 
value about him. Crossing the Plain of Esdraelon he encountered 
four of these scoundrels, who, seeing him unarmed and unresisting, 
proceeded forthwith to attack him with their clubs, wherewith they 
beat and smashed him till, as they supposed, he was dead, and then 
left him. Life had not, however, quite deserted him, and his senses 
returned to him after some hours, when he found himself lying in 
the midst of the Plain, half-dead, a mixture of man and jelly. For- 
tunately he had strength enough left in him to enable him to crawl 
back by slow degrees to Nazareth, where, under the kind and hos- 
pitable care of the good monks he was at length restored : and there 
he left his tale, a warning to all future travellers not to trust the 
foolish falsehoods which enthusiasts are so fond of telling about Arab 
honour and the great-mindedness of Orientals ! 



ass on across it* 



the mo ft 



i 



CHAP. II.] 



GALILEE. 



109 



great plain to the South., — with the snow-capped 
mountains to the North, — with the great sea to the 
West, — with the lake, the river, and the desert to the 
East, — His human mind* grew, and doubtless received 
all those impressions and influences, which such a 
manifold aspect of nature was designed to teach; — and 
here, to this day, Nazareth stands, as of old, clinging 
as it were to the hill-side, and overlooking this little 
valley or basin, into which no less than fourteen other 
such hills from every side converge. 

There is little, however, to be told of the place, 
(beyond what the accompanying view of it will tell 
you.) — And yet, perhaps, there is no spot in all the 
world, (unless it be Jerusalem,) so interesting and 
impressive as this ! Perhaps it is in some degree this 
absence of sights to stare at and curiosities to tell about, 

For the time when a great people ruled this land has passed away. 
A feeble and sickly government is doing its best to oppress the 
people, and gives encouragement to the murderer and the robber, 
whilst it grinds down and tyr anises over the peaceful, useful, and 
more enlightened citizen. The developement of the curse upon this 
devoted land has been accomplished in the detestable tyranny of the 
Mahommedan race, and wherever the hateful green standard and 
crescent are seen waving, there you may be sure that mis government 
and abuse prevail. When I think of Christian Nazareth, with its 
cluster of timid and oppressed inhabitants, heavily taxed for the 
maintenance of an army that never protects them, scarcely daring to 
venture a stone's throw from their city, beset on every side by cut- 
throats and savages : — when I think of the country around, as fine 
as any in the world, — Tabor, and Hermon, and Megiddo, and a 
hundred spots honoured and dear to the remembrance of all Chris- 
tians, now the property of savages and robbers : half- tilled, dangerous 
to traverse unarmed, and in a condition far worse than it could have 
been even in the worst times of the old Canaanites, before the seed 
of Abraham ever had it in possession : — when I say I think of all 
these things I am constrained earnestly to wish that some political 
crisis may soon arise in Eastern affairs whose result may be to dis- 
possess the Turks ( I care not who may take their place ) of a land 
they have so shamefully misgoverned, and to which they have proved 
so terrible a curse: blighting all its institutions civil and social: 
discouraging trade: preventing reform, improvement, or progress: 
and accomplishing the denunciations of the old Hebrew prophets by 
making the country " a bye word among nations !" 



*Lukeii, 52. 



110 



INLAND 



[LECT. III. 



that makes Nazareth so impressive. Its grand interest 
consists, (as does that indeed of all sacred localities,) 
not in petty details of traditionary sanctity, but in the 
great features of the natural scenery, and the identity 
of the general aspect and features of the place. Enough 
for us,— without knowing (or fancying we know) that 
this was the house where He dwelt, or that the shop 
He worked in ; — enough for us to know that this un- 
changing face of nature was most familiar to Him ; — 
that this circle of hills so often greeted His sight ; — 
that these outlines of mountain and valley were shapes 
well-known to, (and, perchance, well-beloved by) 
Him; — that these were the rocks, — the flowers, — the 
trees, — among which as a child He played, or wan- 
dered as a man; — that, in short, this spot of all the 
earth was the most frequent haunt of Jesus Christ the 
Son of God! 

Hence the surpassing interest of the spot. At other 
places, such as Bethlehem, for example, much of the 
pleasure of such feelings is destroyed by the distracting 
influences of local and particular traditions, and the 
jarring desecrations which these have affixed to their 
various spots and scenes. But here, the voice of 
Nature asserts her supremacy, and seems to silence 
with her own solemn appeal all such uncongenial 
influences! It is the home of our Lord, — spot too 
sacred to be made, as it were, a cabinet of curiosities 
for the religious world. No lower lesson than Nature's 
to be learnt in the place where He himself (humanly 
speaking) learnt it! And so we must read it; — not in 
the letter, but in the spirit: "for the letter killeth, 
but the spirit giveth life." — And, so regarded, the 
emotions it produces are all most calm,-—- peaceful, — 
loving. It is the thought of home, for this was His 
home ; — home-associations, — home-happiness, — home- 
love, — that principally pervades it. The thought more- 
over, softening and sanctifying, of her whose home it 
was too,- — His maiden-mother, blessed among women ! 



CHAP. II.] 



GALILEE. 



Ill 



Not but that Nazareth, has its traditions too ; although 
these are less prominently paraded here than in other 
places, yet here they exist; and that not without 
absurd incongruities. Thus the guides will show you, 
if you seek for such, the house of Joseph and Mary ; 
and, in front of it, the exact spot where the angel 
announced to the Virgin the coming birth of the Mes- 
siah. Above this is, of course, the Church of the 
Annunciation; and, by the side of the Church, the 
Convent. There is a broken pillar, — half standing up 
from the floor, — the other part depending from the 
ceiling but not meeting it, — which they tell you the 
angel leant against and broke on that occasion, but 
which, by a miracle, has remained standing thus ever 
since. A wonderful miracle truly; for on examination 
it will be found that the two disjoined pieces never 
could have belonged to the same pillar, being of en- 
tirely different kinds of stone the one from the other ! 
So much for tradition. Outside the town runs a spring 
of fresh water through a fountain, called by a less 
unpleasing tradition "The Fountain of the Virgin: 55 * 
for here they say she came and drew water, — and 
likely enough she did, — perhaps just like the women 
of Nazareth still do, with pitcher balanced on her 

* I have cause to remember Nazareth particularly well, having 
spent three or four days there from an unexpected though not alto- 
gether unforeseen cause. It was on the evening of the first of 
November, 1852, that we arrived there; and, having a dislike to 
the accommodation of convents, which, as you know, are the hotels 
in this part of the world, we determined to pitch our tents outside 
the town, and not trouble the hospitality of the monks. Some 
months previously we had been warned by a weather-wise friend at 
Constantinople, that it always rained in Syria on the first and second 
of November; but, (as we should do in England,) we laughed at 
and disregarded so remote a prophecy, and determined on "camping 
out." So in an olive-grove close to the Virgin's Fountain we set up 
our tents and prepared to pass the night. At about eleven o'clock or 
so, before we lay down to rest, lo and behold down came the pre- 
dicted rain, and with it violent thunder and storm. We prepared 
therefore for the worst ; opened umbrellas over our faces to act as 
bedstead-heads and keep any stray splashing off them, encased our- 



112 



INLAND 



[lect. Ill* 



head; a stately figure, with loose, flowing garments, 
and that same olive complexion, and dark, Eastern eye ! 

The hills round Nazareth are all of great interest, 
not only for the one obvious reason I mentioned of 
these being so familiar to the sight of J esus Christ, but 
also from the wonderful varieties of scenery to be seen 
from them, and the many points of interest those 
scenes embrace. Perhaps the most remarkable instance 
of this is the view from the summit of Mount Tabor, 
which lies some five miles due East of Nazareth, and 
overlooks, as I before said, the Plain of Esdraelon. 
From this point, as from another Pisgah, the prospect 
of well-nigh the whole of Palestine is presented before 
you. In that one and the same view you see both at 
once the Mediterranean Sea, and the Sea of Galilee; 
from almost the coast of Cyprus on the West, to the 
desert-hills of Bashan on the East! Southward across 
the mighty plain lie the hills of Samaria, and Eastward 
you can follow the line of the J ordan almost down to 
the Dead Sea! 

In the neighbourhood of Nazareth ^ too, but in a 
different direction, is a spot of some interest as con- 
nected with one marked incident of our Saviour's life. 
This is the little village of "C ana-el- Jelil," in which 
we may at once recognise the name of C ana of Galilee ; 

selves in waterproof sheets, and went to sleep. It must have been 
about two or three o'clock in the morning that I was awoke by the 
disagreeable sensation of a lake of cold water rushing in at the foot 
of my bed, not to mention a mountain falling down on my body ; 
and on looking out, I discovered that the storm had quite beaten 
down the water-logged tent on the top of me, and I was lying buried 
in its soaking ruins in a regular puddle of rain, and with all the 
elements roaring around me. A most ridiculous and unpleasant 
reality it was to awake to:— but there it was, and there was no help 
f or it —I rose and dressed with everything deep in water, and passed 
the remainder of the night, I remember, in a mackintosh and india- 
rubber leggings, longing for daylight to appear. It came at last, 
and with everything dripping and drenched we went off m the ram 
to the Convent whose shelter we had the night before so foolishly 
despised, and there had to wait three days till the storm had spent 
itself out. 



CHAP. II.] 



GALILEE. 



113 



where, a guest with His mother at His neighbour's 
marriage-feast, He wrought that first miracle of His of 
making the water wine, "and manifested forth His 
glory, and His disciples believed on Him." 

But why should I mention one spot with which His 
presence is connected? All oyer Galilee His figure may 
be seen. Yonder is Nain, a little South of Mount 
Tabor, down in the great Plain, where, as He had 
wandered across one day from Nazareth, He met a 
funeral procession coming from the city-gates, and 
comforted the heart of the mother, chief-mourner in 
that sad company, by staying the bier, and raising the 
corpse, — the corpse of her only son it was, — to life ! 
How many of these hill-tops may have witnessed His 
solitary watchings through the livelong night in prayer ! 
Here was the steep from which His brethren and 
fellow-citizens would have cast Him down headlong,— 
(not the mountain which tradition has named the 
Mount of Precipitation, but) "the hill whereon their 
city was built."* And up towards the Lake is another 
hill from which they say, — probably correctly enough, 
— that He delivered the Sermon on the Mount. And 
what strengthens this probability is that there, within 
sight of it, though at some distance off, still stands on 
a hill-top the city of Saeed, one of the four holy cities 
of the Jews, — "a city set on a hill that could not be 
hid," which furnished Him with an illustration for His 
discourse. f Prom that discourse this hill has acquired 

* At a distance of about two miles from Nazareth, overlooking the 
Plain of Esdraelon, is a rugged, rocky hill, called by some tradition, 
in direct contradiction of the very words of Scripture, the Mount of 
Precipitation ; being, according to tradition-mongers, the steep down 
which His fellow-townsmen of Nazareth essayed to cast our Lord, 
after His bold exposition of Scripture to them one Sabbath morning 
in the Synagogue. (Luke iv, 29.) 

f This same hill too is supposed to be the site of the miracle _ of 
the feeding of the five thousand ; on the strength of which tradition 
they show you, lying on the ground there, the fragments of the 
loaves turned into stone to perpetuate the memory of the miracle ! 
A fact there is, however, connected with this spot, which I deem 

I 



114 INLAND [LECT. III. 

the name of the Mount of the Beatitudes. It has like- 
wise another name, the "Horns of Hattin," from 
two peaks on its summit shaped like horns; and was 
the scene of the famous battle of Hattin, so fatal to 
the cause of the Crusaders. 



Chapter III. 

MARITIME GALILEE. 



" Ah ! If but mine had been the painter's hand 
To express what then I saw, and add the gleam, 
The light that never was on sea or land, ? 
The consecration and the poet's dream !" 



Wordsworth, 



Sea of Galilee— Its beauty, desolation, and familiarity- 
Associations of our Lord and his Apostles— Their teaching and 
lives— History of Tiberias— Sources of Jordan— Paneas and 
Lake Merom—Sidon— Acre— Mount Carmel—Tyre and its 
ruins— General reflections on Galilee and her glory— Conclu- 
ding remarks. 

But the spot of all others in Galilee with which our 
Saviour's memory is most associated,— which His 

not uninteresting ; the slope of the hill is so extremely gradual, and its 
sweep so Extensive, that it might be described without much incorrect- 
ness either as a hill or a plain, according to the spot whence it was 
Viewed; ^^the previous knowledge and ideas of the writer. Aud it 
Is T curious circumstance that this fact completely reconciles an 
Parent contradiction between two of the Evangelists ; one of whom, 
S^^^fdSSibeB the Sermon which we call the Sermon on the 
Mount, as delivered by our Lord from a mountain: (Mat v, 1.) 
whilst the other, St. Luke, describes it as spoken on a plain. (Luke 
T 17.) the truth being that it was delivered on the slope of a 
mountain-side so gradual, as to appear to the eye like a wi^-sweeping 
Sam! Such an undesigned coincidence as this completely satisfied 
niy own imnd as to the lenuineness of the site m a way which no 
amount of mere tradition would have sufficed to do. 



CHAP. III.] 



GALILEE. 



115 



presence seems chiefly to haunt, — is that beautiful lake 
which we know most familiarly by the name of the 
Sea of Galilee. Here was the point to which, (so 
far as we may gather from the Gospels,) He most 
frequently loved to direct His steps. Here, on its 
shores, was the only spot on earth in which we know 
for certain that He permanently resided, after He had 
left His childhood's home at Nazareth! 

It lies at a distance of about fifteen or twenty miles 
to the East of Nazareth; — a sheet of bright, blue water, 
deep-sunk, and surrounded by hills; being, in fact, the 
prolongation of the deep depression of the valley of the 
Jordan, which, as you know, runs through it. In con- 
sequence of this depressed level, it possesses, like the 
Dead Sea and the rest of the Jordan-valley, a volcanic 
soil subject to earthquakes, and a climate almost trop- 
ical. In strange contrast with the aspect which such a 
climate presents round the immediate neighbourhood 
of the Lake, the snow-covered ridges of Lebanon rise 
up majestically in the Northern distance, and form a 
background to the view. Bound the shores of the 
Lake itself, as far as the eye can see, all, (save in this 
one spot,) is deserted and still. No town or dwelling 
is visible on its banks ; — no echo or voice, — no hum of 
men and cities, breaks the deep silence that broods 
over it; — no boat or gleaming sail dots the still sheen 
of its waters. Here only, on the South-western shore 
of the Lake, in the midst of ruins, a ruin almost itself, 
stands the sole survivor of its former greatness,— the 
town of Tiberias. 

And yet, altered as it is in this respect, you seem to 
see at a glance, that this is none other than that Sea of 
Galilee you have known, and read of, and thought 
about all your life ; and to recognise its face at once as 
the face of a friend that somehow seems familiar to you. 
Though you have never seen it before, you seem to 
know it as you know its history. The scenes of Gospel 
story which are connected with it, rise up at once in 



116 



MARITIME 



[lect. Ill, 



the mind, to clothe its beautiful but most desolate 
shores with a group at every point the eye can rest 
on! Yonder, just opposite, is the Gadarene country, 
where our Lord fell in with the possessed of devils 
raving among the tombs, and delivered him; — and 
those sloping cliffs are that "steep place 5 ' down which 
"the herd of swine ran violently into the Lake, and 
perished in its waters." Among the desert hills 
further to the North it was that He fed by a miracle 
the multitudes who followed Him. Close to the head 
of the lake, at the entrance of the J ordan, lay Beth- 
saida, the city of Philip, and Andrew, and Peter. 
Along its Eastern shores, (somewhat hidden from 
sight, but with no traces left now even of their past 
existence,) were Genesareth and Capernaum, where 
Jesus Himself dwelt and wrought many miracles. And 
still further South this town of Tiberias that still 
remains, was founded, but only during the latter part 
of our Lord's lifetime, in the reign of Tiberias Caesar. 

For it was during the period of our Lord's lifetime 
that this Sea of Galilee attained its highest pitch of 
earthly prosperity. Its Western shores were then 
covered with cities, villages, towns and villas; its 
waters with vessels and boats ; and the ^ sights and 
sounds of trade and commercial activity might be seen 
and heard along its banks. The Romans possessed 
Galilee at that time ; and with their usual energy and 
policy they had turned their civilising efforts towards 
those spots in which they could best improve and 
develope the resources of the country. Such a spot 
the Sea of Galilee presented. It possessed a rich soil,— 
a tropical climate, — and its waters abounded in fish. It 
was consequently at that time a centre of busy life. 

And this reminds us of the great attraction which 
this Sea of Galilee possessed for our Lord. His life- 
work lay among men. Here among the untaught multi- 
tude was the sphere for His divine teaching. Here was 
the soil of human hearts wherein the sacred seed was to 



CHAP. III.] GALILEE. 117 

be cast. Not in the retirement of Nazareth, but here 
in the busy world He must be about His Father's 
business, amid the hungering, careworn multitudes, 
toiling in this whirl of life ! 

Here too, (amongst these toiling multitudes,) it was, 
that He found the men whom He deemed not unworthy 
to be the friends and companions of His life on earth. 
Here, in the midst of these scenes, enlivened then by 
the business and pleasure of an active world, their 
mighty spirits were nurtured and moulded, who have 
left so deep an impression and influence on the minds 
and feelings and lives of the men of every subsequent 
a g e J — The propagators and establishers of the kingdom 
of Heaven upon earth, who followed so closely in the 
footsteps of its divine founder Jesus Christ,— the men 
whose names are now familiar and sacred to the world, 
—Peter, the apostle of Hope, the Bock of Christianity, 
— and Andrew his brother; — Philip of Bethsaida, — 
and Zebedee's two great sons, the sons of thunder, — 
James the early-martyred, and his brother John the 
beloved,— the loving,— the divine,— were all of them 
fishermen on this Sea of Galilee, — born and bred on its 
shores, — maintaining themselves, with a thousand 
others like them, by their trade upon its waters, — and 
familiar, in childhood, youth, and manhood, with its 
changeful aspects,— its bright or gloomy phases,— its 
vast variety of verdure, — its storm or its calm, — its 
bordering desolation, and its beautiful landscape ! 

It were curious to endeavour to trace, if it were 
possible, what influence this beautiful home-scenery of 
their's may have had on the formation of the subse- 
quent characters and careers of these remarkable men. 
"We are, however, precluded from any such speculation 
at starting, by the wide contrast and variety which 
those characters present. Here and there, however, 
in the writings both of St. Peter and St. John we may 
trace, to a certain extent, the influence which the 
memory of this so familiar scenery had upon their 



118 



MARITIME 



[LECT. III. 



thoughts. The volcanic character of the whole basin 
of the Lake, causing terrible and sudden earthquakes 
and convulsions; the occasionally fiery heat of its 
atmosphere, and the rapid storms that overwhelm it, 
must undoubtedly have suggested to St. Peter's mind 
some of that figurative language in which he depicts 
the terrors of the last coming of our Lord to judgment, 
and the doom of the condemned. The same features 
too may have been present to St. J ohn, when, in his 
exile at Patmos, he clothed in natural imagery the 
awful and most majestic revelation there vouchsafed to 
him, of the things that should be hereafter. In that 
marvellous apocalypse we may recognise, too, reminis- 
cences of the scenery of the whole country, — of the 
Jordan-valley, — and of that desolate and deadly Sea 
wherein Jordan terminates, whose perpetual misty 
exhalations presented to his mind and memory the 
image of that terrible place "the smoke of whose 
torment rises up for ever and ever." 

But most of all familiar to St. John's mind was that 
wide Plain of Esdraelon, that stretched its huge, level 
surface far up towards the borders of the Lake. Often, 
we can fancy, had he wandered in his youth, with his 
divine Master and Friend, away from this busy Lake 
towards the South, and gazed and mused upon that 
great Armageddon, the battle-field of his race and 
nation. Often must they have conversed, those holy 
friends, of the great fights fought and the great 
victories won there, in the course of their national 
history; 'till patriotism affixed to every fight the Plain 
recalled, the idea of a conflict between all that was 
good on Israel's side, and all that was evil on that of 
their foes. And when, at length, in his extreme old 
age, many years after, there rose upon the Apostle St. 
John's mind the vision of the final conflict between 
good and evil,— God and Satan,— and the final victory 
over all evil to be achieved by God the All-good, it 
was natural that that scene of his youth should have 



CHAP. III.] GALILEE. 119 

recurred to his mind; and that that great Plain of 
Armageddon thus associated in his memory, should 
have been of all others upon earth the place that 
occurred to his imagination as the arena of such a 
fight,— the battle-field of the Future, as it was, (to 
him,) the battle-field of the Past! 

But and if these scenes recall to our minds the 
teaching and lives of the Apostles, how much more do 
they recall the life and teaching of their Lord and 
Master Jesus Christ. The familiar memory of His 
words and deeds still haunts, as it were, these deso- 
late shores. He seems in spirit, (as once m ^ very 
body,) to be walking on these waters; and, though 
all else be passed away from hence, yet have those 
simple words of His not passed away !— No !— For 
still you may see the sower there, casting his seed 
into the broken ground that slopes towards the Lake; 
and it falls some on stony places, and some on thorny, 
and some on the trodden pathway, and some on good, 
rich soil, where it will bring forth fruit, some thirty- 
fold, some sixty, and some even an hundred!— Stall 
you may see there the fisher on the shore drawing up 
his net from the Sea, full both of bad and good!— Stall 
you may see there the tall, green stalks of the tares, 
springing up among the standing corn!— Still you may 
see there abundant signs to tell how homely and how 
true His teaching was ! , 

There, too, as you see these things, the no less 
familiar pictures of His life rise upon the memory. 
Again He seems to stand, in the early dawn of morn- 
ing, a solitary figure on the shore, just visible m the 
twilight, and bids the disappointed fishermen, who 
have been "toiling all night, and have taken nothing, 
once more to launch forth into the deep, and let down 
their nets for a draught;— and lo, the multitude ot 
fishes breaks the net, and almost sinks the boats!— 
Again with sudden storm suffusing the Lake, you 
seem to see the toiling ships submerged and beginning 



120 



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[LECT. III. 



to sink, and lo, from one of them, the same sacred 
figure rises up, and, above raving wind and roaring 
tempest, you hear His voice exclaiming " Peace, be 
still And there is a great calm! 

But upon these beautiful and interesting associations 
I must not now further dwell. A few words more, 
and we must pass on to other scenes. The Sea of 
Galilee is but barely mentioned in Old Testament 
History, when it is introduced to us under the name 
of "The Sea of Chinnereth,"* which word is doubtless 
an earlier form of the better-known name " Gennesa- 
reth," which it afterwards assumed. Tiberias, the only 
town now upon its shores, was first founded, probably, 
during the life-time of our Lord ; and has ever been, as 
it still is, sacred to the Jews, who assemble there in 
considerable numbers to live and die. They believe 
that on the shores of the Lake the Messiah will appear, 
and reign first in the neighbouring town of Safet.. 
Hence, together with Jerusalem and Hebron, Tiberias 
and Safet are accounted by them as holy cities, and 
from every clime and nation under Heaven the Hebrew 
race come thither to settle. After the destruction of 
Jerusalem by Titus, Tiberias was for some time the 
chief city of the Jews in Palestine. Here they founded 
a College of some celebrity; here the Sanhedrim sat 
in the second century; and here those masses of Jewish 
traditional law called the Mishnah and the Gemara 
were compiled. With the other towns of Galilee, it 
has been taken and retaken scores of times, by Roman 
and Jew, Mussulman and Crusader, Turk and Egyp- 
tian, in turn: Napoleon took it in 1799, when the 
French held Syria. 

It remains now a ruinous, forlorn-looking place, 
degraded by oppressive rulers, and desolated by 
frequent earthquakes. In 1759 it was entirely over- 
thrown by one of these convulsions; and again in 1837. 

* Numbers xxxiv, 2. Deut. iii, 17. Joshua xi, 2. xii, 3. xiii, 27. 
1 Kings xv, 20, 



CHAP. III.] GALILEE. 121 

Of the violence of the latter, Dr. Robinson tells a 
characteristic anecdote. "A Mahommedan," he says, 
"related to my companion, that he and four others 
were returning down the mountain West of the city, 
when the earthquake occurred. All at once the earth 
opened and closed again, and two of his companions 
disappeared. He ran home frightened, and found that 
his wife, mother, and two others m the family had 
perished. On digging next day where his two com- 
panions had disappeared, they were found dead, in a 
standing posture !" „,., . 

There was one small boat, and only one, at iiberias 
when I was there. And that was the only boat on the 
whole Lake. Conceive in what a torpor of commercial 
inactivity the country must be! Here is a considerable 
town which has stood for centuries on the banks of a 
large and beautiful lake, full of fish, and it does not 
contain amongst all its ten hundred inhabitants, enter- 
prise enough to produce more than one small boat! 
Settle a hundred Englishmen down on the banks of 
that Lake, and its waters would soon be seen studded 
with sails; its banks, alive with commerce; those old, 
grey, streaked cliffs would re-echo the sounds of busy 
life once more; and more would have been accom- 
plished towards the restoration and prosperity of the 
land in a single month, perhaps, than has been done 
in the last hundred years by the inert, degraded race 
who now occupy it. Oh could the old dwellers upon 
this devoted shore, rise from their graves to witness its 
desolation,— the men of Capernaum which was exalted 
to Heaven,— the busy traders of Chorazin and Beth- 
saida,— or those multitudes who heard the solemn words 
of the great Teacher dying away over the Lake, and saw 
His mighty deeds,— would they not say that all had been 
most utterly fulfilled?— that the predicted woe had 
indeed been poured out over these waters?— that 
Tyre and Sidon's doom was more tolerable far than 
theirs? 



122 



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[LECT. III. 



Such is the Lake of Tiberias. Little more remains 
to be told of Eastern Galilee. It may be interesting, 
however, ere we turn Westward, to follow the river 
Jordan as far as its source, which is at no very great 
distance off. The town now called Paneas, but of old 
C^esakea Philippx, and still more anciently Dan, 
marks the spot where the sacred river takes its rise. 
It lies near the foot of Mount Hermon, in the midst of 
a picturesque and beautiful landscape. From this 
interesting spot the Jordan rushes down by a rapid 
descent into the Sea of Galilee, passing through, in its 
fresh and fertilising course, one smaller lake, the Lake 
of Meiiom ; a sheet of water of about a mile in circum- 
ference, whose marshy banks are said to abound in 
wild-fowl, and are enclosed by low, wooded hills. 
Close by the spot whence the water of Jordan first 
springs from the ground is a very remarkable grotto, 
sculptured, with an empty niche or shrine as for a 
statue, and an inscription in Greek dedicating the 
place to Pan and the Nymphs. Hence, doubtless, the 
name Paneas. But the name has lost its sanctity, and 
the dedication is vain, and great Pan is long since 
dead; and another and a greater figure, — (too great and 
holy to be worthily sculptured in fragile stone, but not 
too great for loving memories to image imperishably 
there, — ) seems to occupy that vacant shrine. For here 
it was that Jesus Christ passing across with His dis- 
ciples to the coasts of this C 86sarea Philippi, took His 
three chosen followers apart by themselves to the 
neighbouring slopes of Hermon, and was transfigured 
before them. — Here it was, in this very sanctuary and 
stronghold of old heathen worship, that He thus mani- 
fested forth His glory. — Here it was that He asked His 
disciples, "Whom say ye that I am?" — And here, 
where these false gods too long had held their seat, the 
bold reply of Peter spoke their doom, "Thou art the 
Christ, the Son of the Living God!" 

***** 



CHAP. III.] GALILEE. 1&5 

Having thus reached the Northern limit of the Holy 
Land, and traversed the country from Beersheba to 
Dan, it remains for us now to turn our faces once again 
"Westward, away from these sacred scenes, — away from 
this deep river, the limit of the wide deserts of Asia, 
and tent life, and primaeval custom,— towards Europe, 
and Civilisation, and the Modern World,' and above all 
things, Home! A day's journey to the North-west 
from Paneas will bring us to the shores of the Medi- 
terranean Sea, to a city and sea-port perhaps the most 
ancient in the world; founded, probably, by a great 
grandson of Noah, the eldest-born of Canaan the son 
of Ham, whose name it still to this day bears,— the 
name of Sidon. 

This place, Sidon, is interesting to us as Englishmen, 
not only for its extreme antiquity, — not only for its 
beauty, — not only for its Historical and Scriptural asso- 
ciations,— but also as being, (with its sister-city Tyre,) 
the earliest seat of commerce and of colonisation, — the 
starting-point from which the enterprise and civilisation 
of the East and of Asia, communicated itself to Europe 
and the Western World. To the bold and enterprising 
spirit of the old Phoenician race, we as a nation owe a 
greater debt of gratitude than perhaps any nation in 
the world: for in addition to the benefits conferred hj 
them on mankind at large, (which we partake of with 
the rest,) we have profited more largely than any 
others, by her great example in both those respects of 
commercial and of colonial greatness. ^ Sidon is a small 
town now, still feebly maintaining, (in spite of Turkish 
oppression,) some trade in the manufacture for which 
it has in all ages been famous, of silk, and purple dye. 
The picturesque appearance of the place is much 
increased by a palace or fortress built out in the Sea in 
front of it, and joined to the town by means of a 
handsome bridge. This was built during the last cen- 
tury, by Fakr-ed-din, a powerful Emir of the Drusees, 
(a tribe or sect inhabiting the Lebanon, who are con- 



124 



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[lect. III. 



stantly at war with their Turkish rulers,) and was 
reduced and much ruined by the cannon of England 
in 1840, when Sir Charles Napier coasted along Syria, 
and took these sea-ports one after another in succession, 
from Beyrout to Akka. It is somewhat strange that, 
with this exception, there should be no ruins in Sidon, 
a city that has* existed almost since the flood, — a city 
once so great and powerful; but beyond an occasional 
carved stone, or fallen pillar, lying every here and 
there, no trace or monument of former greatness 
remains. Some of its narrow streets, however, are 
curious, being arched over with such massive masonry, 
that it seems as though the palace-chambers and temples 
of ancient Sidon had sunk into decay, to be converted 
by posterity into streets for Modern Saida.* 

The shore near Sidon is lovely. Palms, cacti, oaks,, 
figs, and all sorts of shrubs grow quite close down to 
the sea, and far along the level sand you may see the 
silk-spinners plying their trade. About twenty miles 
along the coast to the South lies Tyre, a city insepa 
rably associated with it. And between the two is a 
town called Zarephath, in which we recognise the 
familiar name of Sarepta, a city of Sidon to which 
Elijah was sent to a woman who was a widow. 

Another day's journey along the coast to the South 
from Tyre brings us to a town whose name recalls very 
different associations. It is the old Canaanitish town of 
Accho, — which was called for centuries of Syrian and 
Roman occupation Ptolemais, — but which, strangely 
enough, has, (like several other sites in Palestine,) 
recovered in the native language its first, ancient, long- 
disused name, and is now again known as Acre or 
Akka. It is the principal town of Modern Galilee, 
and the seat of the Pachalik; and is best known to us as 
the place where British valour and naval superiority 
have twice changed the destinies of the Turkish 
Empire. It is an old story now, how, in the end of the 
* Such, is its Modern Name. 



CHAP. III.] GALILEE. 1*0 

last century, 1799, the youthful Napoleon, hitherto 
unvanquished, received the first check in his career of 
undiverted victory at Acre: and how, after long besieg- 
ing that fortress, which he termed "the key of the 
East," he was there eventually forced to retire, and 
give up all his splendid projects of an Eastern Empire, 
by the efforts of our own countrymen under Sir Sidney 
Smith! Acre was, within our own memory, in the 
year 1840, stormed and taken for the first time by the 
English fleet under Sir Eobert Stopford, (or according 
to some by Sir Charles Napier, for it seems a somewhat 
disputed point,) and restored, from the good govern- 
ment of the Egyptian Mehemet Ali and his son Ibrahim, 
to the miserable mismanagement and tyranny of the 
Turks, , . 

Acre, therefore, ancient and desolate as it is, is a 
place of very great interest to ourselves, recalling as it 
does these historical memories of our national glory. 
Situated on the Northern point of that great bay, of 
which the huge headland of Mount Carmel forms the 
Southern promontory, its fortifications stand boldly out 
into the Mediterranean, and seem to defy the invader; 
but within, the town* is half ruined, owing to the 
explosion of a powder-magazine in the interior, during 
the siege seventeen years ago. 

You will see if you look at the Map, that almost the 
only indentation in the whole coast-line of Palestine, is 
that caused by the Bay of Acre. Pursuing our course, 
then, Southward from Acre, along the sandy shore of 
this Bay, which abounds in beautiful shells, we reach, 
at a distance of some eight miles, the "debouchure" of 
"that ancient river, the river Kishon;" which, not 
being so great as it was in Sisera's day, you may now 
wade across on horseback without even wetting your 
feet. Beyond this is the small town of Kaifa, a place 
of some slight commercial importance ; and immediately 

* I speak of its condition when I was there, in 1852, as for aught 
I know, it may have been all repaired long before this. 



126 



MARITIME 



[CHAP. III. 



beyond, (or rather above) this, at a distance of some 
ten or twelve miles from Acre, is the great headland 
and mountain of Carmel, grateful to the weary traveller, 
and famous all the world over for the magnificent and 
hospitable convent that crowns its summit. 

It is a grand, gloomy cliff, and overlooks the Medi- 
terranean for miles. The convent* is erected over the 
(supposed site of the) cave of Elijah. The grandeur 
of the spot is worthy of the character of him with whom 
its name is thus associated: and, perhaps, in some 
degree assisted in shaping it in those rugged and ma- 
jestic proportions. If we can imagine Elijah, solitary 
in his cave upon this mountain, how greatly will the 
view and far expanse of ever-changing ocean that met 
his constant gaze, assist our conceptions and compre- 
hension of the stern strength of his mind, and his 
superiority to human weakness! How fine a picture 
is that of the prophet of the true God overthrowing the 
priests of Baal, with a spot like Carmel for its scene, 
and the ocean rolling and roaring beneath! 

Such is Mount Carmel. Along the desolate shore to 
the South of this, there are no more towns for miles ; 
none, in fact, down as far as the coast of J udsea, and 
Joppa its seaport. Only against the deserted ruins of 
the two ancient towns of Don and C^esarea, on the 
Samaritan coast the waves of the Mediterranean Sea 

* Those who have partaken of the hospitality of this famous con- 
Tent will not easily forget the kindness with which they were 
received there, nor the affability of good brother Charles with his 
Prench small-talk and kindly efforts to do the polite ; nor the scrap- 
book, to which all travellers who sketch are proud to add a contri- 
bution, (I left one there of dear old Ireland myself;) nor the 
travellers' book, in which all are glad to record with gratitude the 
hospitality with which they have been entertained; — all save one 
wretched man, — bigot beneath execration, fit object only for pity, — 
for whom all well-meaning travellers have a word of abuse entered 
in the book, — who, in return for all the kindness he has received, can 
only inscribe such a remark as this, " Where is the Lord God of 
Elijah ?" Wiser had he been had he omitted his name after it. — He 
has left it for the scorn and pity of the world. 



CHAP. III.] GALILEE. 127 

beat up, and hymn, as it were, the dirges of their 
departed glory! 

To return, however, to Tyre. Tyre, although origin- 
ally an island, and only joined to the mainland by the 
mole cast up by Alexander the Great when he besieged 
it, is now a complete headland, with no traces of ever 
having been, as it was, surrounded by water. The 
town itself has been destroyed and rebuilt very often 
"in the course of ancient and modern History; and 
there are consequently the ruins of three or four cities 
of different dates, each the Tyres of their day, trace- 
able round the spot. The ruins, however, most visible 
at the present day are those of the Crusader's city: and 
the modern town occupies a mere hole in one corner of 
the headland. The striking and marvellous feature, 
however, about Tyre, is the evident fate of the older 
city, against which the Old Testament prophecies 
were pronounced. It is said in Ezekiel concerning 
Tyre, (then a powerful and magnificent city,) "They 
shall lay thy stones, and thy timber, and thy dust, in 
the midst of the water, and I will make thee like the 
top of a rock: thou shalt be a place to spread nets 
upon; thou shalt be built no more. 55 And this is ful- 
filled to the very letter. For looking out into the sea 
beyond the land, you may discern flat-topped rocks, 
dark, and so level with the surface of the water, that 
they look as though a mower had come with a scythe 
and cut them down! And in those dark ranges of rock 
you may, ( or at least I thought I could,) trace lines of 
streets, and houses, halls, and temples, and all the 
groundwork of a city; there it lies, that proud old 
town, all charred and blackened, but not all oblite- 
rated, but there remaining an eternal testimony to the 
truth of God's prophecy! It is said that on the few 
rocks that project above the water there, the modern 
Tyrians do dry their nets. I myself saw nets drying 
on the ruins of the Crusaders' city, but not of the 
other. For the cities occupy distinct sites ; and so far 



128 



MARITIME 



[LECT. III. 



the prophecy "it shall never be rebuilt 55 is verified; 
for the old Tyre that Ezekiel denounced never has 
been rebuilt, and never can be, inasmuch as the sea 
has long ago washed over its resting-place. 

So Tyre the Great has fallen with the rest, and lies 
low; — the very ghost of a departed glory: — a wreck 
cast up on the shores of that great Sea, the Mediterra- 
nean, whose waves have since washed many another 
wrecked and ruined empire! Meet type of that 
greater sea of Time, that wrecks and ruins all things 
in their turn ! 

***** 



* * * * * 

The same ceaseless monitor reminds me that I have 
already trespassed too long upon your patience. I will 
ask you nevertheless to linger with me in thought yet 
a few moments longer upon these sacred shores, — 
mindful of Him who wandered thoughtful along these 
coasts of Tyre and Sidon eighteen hundred years ago, 
— and contemplate the extraordinary destinies of this 
Northern portion of the Land of Promise. 

For here as you stand on this enchanted coast, with 
Galilee behind you and the Mediterranean Sea before, 
you seem to occupy a mid-station, as it were, in 
eternity between the Old World and the New, — 
between the Past and the Present, — between Ancient 
and Modern History, and Thought, and Feeling, and 
Life! — The World and the World's greatness and 
glory have rolled away from here long since, in the 
pathway of the Sun. The day of human civilisation 
and power dawned in the far East. It passed on, as 
it were, in its morning over this Land of Promise. 
It brooded at mid-day over the isles of Greece and the 
mountains of- Borne. It rested, when its noon was 



CHAP. III.] GALILEE. 1^ 

past,— (is resting now, perhaps,)— on England and 
Trance, and the countries of Western Europe, its 
sunset-glories may yet be destined to suffuse the 
Continent of America beyond the Atlantic !— 

" Westward the course of Empire takes its way, 
The four first acts already past, 
A fifth shall close the drama with the day; 
Time's noblest offspring is the last!"* 

But on Galilee, this day of earthly empire rested 
not long. It did but pass across it and was gone! 
The Westering Sun of earthly glory gilds with a sad, 
mournful light the wrecks of nations upon which m 
byegone years it rested!— But such is not the glory 
that falls on Galilee! Her memory is not the memory 
of earthly greatness! Her desolation is not the deso- 
lation of earthly ruin!— Her memory is the memory of 
the humble, holy, home-life of Jesus Christ and His 
Apostles! Her desolation is, real enough, yet, so 
lovely, that you might almost fancy that He to whom 
the land is sacred still, had uttered oyer Galilee the 
beautiful wish of the Christian poet,— 

" Since all that is not Heaven must fade, 
Light be the hand of ruin laid 

Upon the Home I love ; 
With lulling spell let soft Decay 
Steal on, and spare the giant sway, 

The crash of Tower and Grove ! 

Far opening down some woodland steep 
In their own quiet glades, should sleep 

The relics dear to thought ; 
And wild-flower wreaths from side to side, 
Their waving tracery hang, to hide 

What ruthless Time has wrought P'f 



* Bp. Berkeley, 
f Christian Year.— Monday in Whitsim-week, 



130 GALILEE. [LECT. III. 

So lies Galilee, beautiful and fresh even in her deso- 
lation, amid the wrecks of byegone empire that lie 
round her, and the blighted ruins of earthly glorv! 
Gilded by the beams of a brighter day, and fresh with 
an undying verdure ! 



* * * * * 



Before I conclude I must ask you to unite with me 
in acknowledging the kindness of those who have so 
ably assisted me in bringing this beautiful country 
before your minds this evening. One word of apology 
I would add before I sit down, respecting the character 
of my Lecture this evening. It may have seemed to 
some to have savoured rather of the pulpit than of the 
platform, and to have been too much in the style of a 
Sermon and too little in that of a Lecture. In answer 
to this I must be permitted to plead the nature of my 
subject. And however this may be, I shall feel that 
such a peculiarity is of but slight consequence if, by 
what I have said this evening I shall have contributed 
towards rendering that beautiful vision more definite 
and clear, which floats before the mind of every reader 
of the Bible as he hears the blessed and familiar name of 
Galilee. 



THE END. 



HARVEY; PKINTEK, SIDMUUIH. 



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